


Quod Faciem-Minori Sirenium

by xDangerxZonex



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, But I wanted to create an OFC, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, I know it's lame, I'm a sucker for the happy endings okay?, Love Story, River maidens, Romance, Sirens, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Company of Thorin - Freeform, nothing too graphic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2018-11-16 19:18:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 59,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11259291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xDangerxZonex/pseuds/xDangerxZonex
Summary: Kaiamær of Evendim is a River Maiden in disgrace. Cursed many years ago for a crime long past, she is asked by an old Wizard to join him, 13 Dwarves, and a Hobbit on an adventure of a lifetime. Now, if only she can get through this quest without her true identity - or gender - being discovered while also protecting The Company of The Grumpiest King she has ever met...





	1. A Favor For a Friend

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's been done to have a Thorin/OFC pairing, but I fell in love with them and I thought I'd contribute. Also, because I am a sap, I'm not killing everyone off or ending this on a sad note. My babies have suffered enough heartbreak, thank you. This is my first published work, so treat me gently!
> 
> If you have any questions, suggestions, or concerns, please feel free to use the comment section below. Anyway, enjoy!
> 
> Quod Faciem-Minori Sirenium (Latin) - The Faceless Siren
> 
> Kaiamær (Norse) - Maiden of The Sea

Out deep in the forests of Evendim sat a lonely figure staring out into the expansive lake in front of them. Their glacial form was only disturbed by the puffs of air forming in the early morning sun. An eternity seemed to pass before the figure finally moved, raising their arm from under their cloak, holding it out as a startlingly white crow immediately flew perch upon it. Nothing could be heard but whispers from the anonymous shape and light chirps from the bird. They seemed to be having a very in-depth conversation, perhaps chatting about the weather or perhaps debating in a squabble.

The near-quiet was broken suddenly with a harsh snap of a twig: they were not alone. The bird flew away as the covered shape quickly stood. Two daggers were smoothly pulled out from under the fabric, as the figure turned toward the sound. What stood in front of them was a surprising, and rather disconcerting, sight. An elderly man with a knotted wooden staff and well-worn grey robes had stopped to smile and wave warmly in greeting. They relaxed for only a moment, thinking it was just an older traveler waving to a passerby. That was until their keen eye noticed the point of his wizarding hat and the aura of magic surrounding his being. Within seconds the cloaked figure was across the space separating them and pointing two very sharp daggers against the Wizard's throat. However, instead of being frightened as he should have been, he seemed rather... amused.

"Now, now," He chided in an almost teasing tone, "You wouldn't hurt a defenceless old man, would you?"

" _I_ am not an imbecile, and _you_ are not defenceless." A low voice came from the cloak, sounding like a wounded animal ready to strike, and they were. "State your business quickly _Wi_ _zard_ and I may just spare you."

Instead of looking terrified as any other sane creature would, the old sorcerer let out a gentle rumble of laughter. The form in front of him became rigid, blades digging into the skin of his neck. He gingerly pulled back from the knives so as not to suffer injuries, eyes warming even further.

"It is just as he said. And I thought he was becoming more delusional with age." The man confessed with a fond grin. His statement took them back a moment, confusing them further. He was much stranger than the Wizards they had come across in their travels. Except, perhaps, one.

"State your business, I will not ask again." The cloaked one threatened, the air surrounding them seeming to darken in their ire. And, if he were just anyone he would very well have been begging for his life, but fond of living he seemed _not_ to be.

"Forgive an old man for his need for entertainment. I am Gandalf The Grey, and it has taken me a fair bit out of my way to find you." He told them Jovially, smile widening further as their shoulders stiffened further. He had been _certain_ they could not be more tightly wound than before, but it was nice to be proven wrong every century or so. Slowly, they retracted their daggers, hands disappearing back into the long indigo cloak to sheath them.

"Have you come to discover what you fear most?" They asked in a bitter tone, to which Gandalf quickly shook his head.

"No, no. You once owed a favour to a dear friend of mine, and he has given me permission to collect. No, I must ask you to join me on a quest, Kaiamær."

They took a stuttered gasp, having not heard the name uttered in centuries out of fear. They pulled back their hood in astonishment to reveal a woman of great beauty, or, she would be if she had a face. Her neck was slim and elegant, skin looking as smooth and soft as a newborn babe. The front of her auburn locks were braided like a crown framing her face, allowing the back to flow freely into soft waves. Yes, she would be, but where eyes, nose, and mouth should be, there was blank skin, leaving a haunting look to those who gazed upon it.  Gandalf was relieved, if a bit guilt-ridden, that she had not taken the glamour of nothingness from her face. For her _true_ face would bring nothing but terror, even to a Wizard such as him.

"I have not heard that name in a _very_ long time," She breathed in dawning understanding. The damn maniac had thrown her to the wolves if it was who she thought it was. "Radagast."

**⤬⤬⤬⤬⤬**

It took Gandalf a moment to shake himself after she recovered and slipped the cloak back over her head. It was not surprising, as he had never gazed upon a face so devoid of, well, anything. After his slight falter, he picked back up his smile and easygoing manner. It did not fool her in the slightest, but Kaiamær was willing to let it go. After all, he _was_ the first to not run screaming after seeing her lack of a face, at least not in a century or so.

"Yes, Radagast and I have a seasoned past together and have cultivated a friendship over a great many years. When I told him of my plans in passing, he suggested I find you here," Gandalf started back into the conversation as if he'd never left.

"A feat, to be sure," She murmured good-naturedly before returning to the current dilemma with an incredulous air. "Why on all of _Arda_ would he suggest such an absurd thing? Does he remember that I told him _how_ I was cursed? That no person, regardless of race would take me in if they knew of my identity? Not to mention the last journey he asked me on..." Though she did not raise her voice, he could hear the surprise and annoyance as if it were being shouted in his ear. Her ability to speak quietly in such a loud manner surprised him to no end. A product of the "magics" she seemed to naturally have.

"And that is why we conceal your identity," He replied simply, as if she were talking about going for a stroll while the weather was nice. Oh, if only it _was_ such a simple topic. She did not want to do this again, not after so many times of- but she was getting ahead of herself, she hadn't even agreed to go this time yet.

"How exactly am I supposed to do that while also travelling? Journies tend to be long, with little room for privacy, or secrecy," She started up in curiosity, before pausing to rethink her words. "Ah, but first you must tell me what it is we are supposed to be questing _for_ and I will consider, only _consider_ , possibly helping you. After all, I do not owe my favour to you."

"Fair enough. However, we'll have to talk on the road, as I'm behind schedule and have another member to approach before the rest arrive," Gandalf told her brightly, as if he had the utmost confidence that she would follow, and began to walk back the way he came. She stared after him before she reluctantly started to follow, though at a more sedate pace.

"And where is this 'other member?'" She asked in a resigned tone, causing the grey wizard to smile in triumph where she could not see him.

"We're not going far, my dear. Why, we're only headed to Hobbiton!" He told her in delight, the skin around his eyes crinkling with mischief. She had seen such looks before in another Wizard, and those looks meant endless trouble for her.

"Hobbits... Gandalf I am almost certainly convinced that you are beyond even Radagast's insanity. Very well, allow me to grab my travel pack and we can set out for this member..." She sighed, just shaking her head. She did not know the full story and therefore would not jump to reckless conclusions. Perhaps this _specific_ Hobbit had certain skills. Not all Shire creatures were as silly as most of them were, some were sturdy and clever. Perhaps it was this sort of Hobbit they needed.

**⤬⤬⤬⤬⤬**

This was a terrible idea. She was going to be around _dwarves,_ of all things, who were headed on a 6-month journey to take a _mountain_ back from a _dragon_. There was also the fact that they were possibly taking a hobbit along, whom Gandalf had not seen for some time and thus no longer knew overmuch, was just a "minor detail" according to the old coot in front of her. Despite her incredulousness, she had not forgotten herself. This  _was_ a wizard, after all, a very powerful one. When he had explained, she had not yelled, not fought him, just listened. He seemed to relax and become more candid as soon as he realized that she would _not_ be accosting him with questions. She would not be surprised if the Dwarves he had been dealing with had even let him finish 3 sentences. Her ability to listen before answering had seemed to grow through the millennia, that was for sure. It also did _not_ , however, lessen her intense dislike for this quest. It was a suicide mission, that she was puzzled to be asked along on.

"Gandalf," She eventually spoke up. "I understand why this quest is underway, that it has a noble purpose. Yet, I still do not understand why you would ask me along a journey you have no need of my kind for."

"Do you forget that we are kin? You have many great talents, your greatest strength is with water, yes. But I have heard great tales of a warrior maiden with the ability to bend each element with will and power alone. I know that you still can, even if Radagast mentioned this new... condition left your power crippled. That you can perform these acts to this day, save for the added physical price to pay at a later date," The Wizard continued recounting her shame in such a bright tone that she almost couldn't be upset at him for it. Almost.

"We are kin in the very loosest sense and you know it," She reminded him in the dryest tone she could manage. "I am hoping that I have misread your intent... However, you sound as if you want me to use my gifts with reckless abandon, without thought to personal cost. Because that is what it would take to get every person on this quest out of this alive."

"Not at all, young Kaiamær!"-She coughed at that blatantly false descriptor-"Simply that I fear for the safety of the company and wish to bring along a... backup plan, if you will," He vehemently denied, patting her shoulder comfortingly. This relaxed her slightly before she was back to thinking. She stayed silent for a moment, paying no mind to the old man's worried glances. She could understand why she could be a useful addition, and with a Wizard joining the party, it was much less likely that she would have to tax herself overmuch. Still, she did not like hiding herself yet again for another journey. Down those roads were only pain and rejection. And yet, she felt a certain pull to agree.

"And my identity?" She finally asked, following her instincts. He beamed at her, as he knew he'd won her over.

"Why, you go on as you have, of course! I was almost convinced I had not found you even when you spoke, just for the way you pitched your voice alone," He told her encouragingly.

"Do you truly believe deceit of my identity will help matters in the long-run? Would it not create more distrust when it is inevitably found out?" She asked him with raised eyebrows, ones which he had no hope of seeing.

"If they knew of your identity, even possibly your orientation, now, you would be dismissed. This way, you will have shown them your worth, and by the time truth is revealed they will be unable to abandon you," He reasoned cheerfully. Apparently, he had thought of _everything._

"I will concede to your point, though I make no promises on how long this charade will drag on, or if I will even be successful in the first night," She countered with a small smile. Excitement and fear seemed to war for prevalence within her.

"Then the quest is accepted?" He asked, and As soon as her head had given a nod, he clapped his hands together in delight, before continuing on. "Now, as for your name, I feel as though you should begin to go by the name of Kai." 


	2. A Gathering In Hobbiton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Rivermaiden, a Hobbit, 13 Dwarves, and a meddling Wizard walk into a room...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the Kudos and comments! I had a lot of fun writing a grumpy Thorin this chapter, and I hope you enjoy reading it just as much. Also, I have the next 9-ish chapters pre-written in a rough draft, so weekly updates can be expected.
> 
> Also: Since this Fic will have Khuzdul, Sindarin, and Westeron, I've worked out a system.
> 
> Sindarin is in italics (Save for lone words, those are usually used for emphasis)
> 
> Khuzdul is in bold letters
> 
> Westeron is just... normal letters I suppose.
> 
> Whenever the actual language is used, there is someone who will translate the words, so no need to be looking at a jumbled sentence and having to translate it on your own.
> 
> Enjoy!

It only took them a short while to get to Hobbiton, as it was only half a day's journey from her spot in Evendim. Though Kaiamær had only walked into Hobbiton a few times in passing (Or, at least what her lifespan counted as passing), she had a soft spot for this welcoming, if a bit suspicious, folk. She had dealt mostly with those in the other parts of The Shire, where she was always met with many a warm welcome, a bit of caution, and a healthy dose of gossip surrounding her. Still, She doubted there would still be anyone left alive to remember her, as she hadn't travelled through here in at least 100 years. This was her reason for agreeing to wait at the edge of town while Gandalf went to meet his next questing candidate. He could not risk causing a stir before the Dwarves arrived, and so she followed his lead with little more than a nod.

He instructed her to travel into town when nightfall hit, only going to the hobbit hole with a blue symbol marking the door. He had suggested she perhaps found a face covering other than her hood before he was off, whistling his way into the merry town. She grudgingly took his advice as it was a better idea than leaving her face bare underneath the cloak. It was easy to pull the cloth back to reveal the horror beneath, and if she was going to commit herself to this quest, then she needed to remedy it. Besides, it took up the time that would have been spent sitting idly, and that was enough for her. 

The mask itself was made of high-quality ash wood, taken along with her when Gandalf had found her. She had carved the face at a slight curve to contour to her features. There were no indications of a nose or lips, just two larger triangular holes for the eyes. It would be easier to conceal her facelessness if there were fewer holes for the light to shine into, even if it would make breathing less comfortable. Along the forehead, she had carved small branches spreading out evenly as if it were almost a wooden crown. It was her one extravagance to the mask, for she _was_  still a woman, and she still had certain aesthetic standards.

 It had a decidedly unearthly look to it, but it would only be seen unless she had her hood far enough back on her head. She threaded a thin rope through the mask on either side, before tying the mask securely to her face. With that task accomplished, she glanced at the horizon. Darkness had begun to colour the sky; it was time to head for the hobbit's house. 

She travelled through the quieting town, searching the rolling hills for the one rounded door that had luminous markings. Her travels led her to a prestigious-looking smial, one that spoke of wealth and comforts. She raised her eyebrows at Gandalf's selection, but nonetheless carefully opened the homely gate to travel the short steps up to the door. She let out a small huff, after taking a second look at the mark and realizing the symbol was, in fact, a 'G.' The old codger had used his own trademark symbol. 

She shook herself, and with a small amount of apprehension and an adjustment to her recently fashioned covering, she knocked upon the strong wooden door. It was only a tad smaller than her near 5-foot height, but it was beautifully carved and painted a green that matched the lawn. Some noise could be heard from inside as the owner of the home came to open the door.

"No, nope! Nobody's home, I have enough dwarves in my kitchen as it is!" A muffled voice came from just inside before the door swung open. It revealed a hobbit man of perhaps 4 feet, looking rather disgruntled. The creature wore a quilted night robe with red velvet lining, tied tightly shut to his person to no doubt preserve his modesty. He took a shocked step backwards, golden eyes bugging out in slight terror.

"It is a good thing, then, that I am not a dwarf," She said jokingly, deepening her voice to a baritone. Oh how this was going to wreck her vocal chords in the long run. "I am Kai, of Evendim. Apologies for the late hour."

"B-Bilbo Baggins," He squeaked out, frozen in fear and uncertainty. After a moment of stillness on both parts, she decided to step forward, wiping her feet on the welcome mat. As a courtesy, she began unstrapping the sword and bow from her person, leaving the daggers in a case of emergency.

"Is there a space that I could place these that would not inconvenience you?" She asked kindly, waiting for him to break from his statuesque stance.

"Definitely not a dwarf. " He muttered before speaking up and pointing her to a closet near the door," Yes, I suppose you could set it with the others over this way. Thank you for wiping your feet, you'd be the _first."_

"Yes, I am familiar with the habits of dwarves. Apologies again, for I knew you weren't expecting company," She told him ruefully as she set down her weapons.

"Oh, well... apology accepted," He answered in surprise, grumpy demeanour lessening significantly at her polite manners. "Would you like me to take your coat for you then, Master Kai?"

"No thank you, Master Baggins I would much like to keep it on. It is how I am accustomed," She told him gently, before following the sounds of merriment. She had never been inside a hobbit hole this advanced, and by the architecture, it was a grand one at that. The Hobbit hesitantly followed, movements growing tense as they approached the source of the racket.

When she reached the opening to what appeared to be a dining room, she stopped to count the dwarves. There were four there at present, each having a unique look to them. There were two, however, that caught more of her attention. They were the younger two of the group, one with golden hair, dimples, and a mischievous air, and the other, a dark brunette, with only a scruff of beard. What caught her attention, however, were their braids. The blonde had many braids, but there was one that matched the lone braid in the other's hair: Seven strand Royalty braids. This intrigued her, but she kept silent, it was not her place to speculate.

The other two were much older, both _well_ past their majority, and much more gruff-looking. The younger of the two had a large baldness atop his head dark markings and runes inked into the open space. Despite being the same height as her, he managed to make an imposing figure with the scars along his arms and gash running from forehead to cheek in a diagonal slant. The last was much more pleasant, if grandfatherly looking, Dwarf. He seemed to be perpetually grinning, taking attention away from his massively bulbous nose and his long white beard with curling tips. 

They all seemed to be setting out plates and grabbing food from the pantry to set along the long wooden table. She felt a small pang of sympathy for the poor hobbit as she knew of their love for food. Their display, by Hobbit standards, were barbaric, and she was frankly surprised that Bilbo hadn't kicked them all out. Before she could make a comment on it, she was noticed. The others halted completely in their ministrations, looking confused and taken aback. As a whole, a much warmer greeting than she had expected.

"And just who are you??" The balding one asked suspiciously, looking ready to attack her any minute for her unknown state. He seemed to be reaching behind him for a weapon that was not there, to which he cursed in his own language.

"I am Kai of Evendim, and I have come per request of an old Wizard you may know. I have not trespassed," She answered holding her hands up. A small thrill shot through her at the anonymity, for most usually knew exactly who she was. She had been reliably informed that the markings of her people etched into her cloak and armour were distinctive for most races. Gandalf had already thought of this, despite her not having dealt with many Dwarves since her... incident. He had given her an entirely new cloak, material lighter, softer, and had more pockets than she knew what to do with. In short, no one would know her identity.

"I don't know _why_ he would ask along such an eerie figure, but I'll trust him for now. Food is on the table," The Dwarf answered gruffly, before grudgingly continuing his movements. At this, the elderly Dwarf seemed to shrug and continue as well. It was the two youngsters who had trouble breaking away from their stares.

"Evendim, isn't that the forest just north of here? The one with the big lake?" The brunette muttered to the blonde, earning a nod of confirmation. There seemed to be a moment of hesitation before the blonde hesitantly smiled and stepped up to her.

"So, why do you wear a mask, 'Kai of Evendim,'" He asked with no small amount of bravado. She could sense his fear and mistrust, it made her much more cautious. She slowly reached out a gloved hand to grab a plate, beginning to fill it with the foods she fancied, thinking of the right answer.

"Should I ask why _you_ braid the beard of your upper lip, or why _he_  clasps his hair back? It is my way." She eventually answered neutrally, if a bit dryly, before finding a bench in the farthest corner of the room and sitting crossed-legged upon it. They seemed to share a wide-eyed look before breaking out into grins. Apparently, she had given the correct answer. She lifted her mask just enough to be able to eat, but not so much as to reveal her face as a sudden ring came from the doorbell. An adventure, indeed.

**⤬⤬⤬⤬⤬**

It was when Gandalf arrived with most of the rest of the company that the feast truly began. Fíli and Kíli, after their initial reluctance, had introduced themselves and decided to ask her multitudes of questions, just to hear her dry responses. They also decided to introduce the company.

Dwalin and Balin, she learned were the first to arrive before the brothers. They themselves were also brothers and hadn't seen each other in years. In fact, most of the dwarves had at least one relative within the group. Like Oín the healer, and his fiery red-bearded brother Gloín.

Then came Dori, Nori, and Ori, to which she found had vastly different personalities. The eldest, Dori, was a serious type that had a mean protective streak for his younger siblings. Nori was easily distinguished by the three spikes in his hair and the three braids in his beard, creating a star-like shape. He was a rather good spy, she learned, and was there for that very reason. The youngest, and most quiet, was Ori. He was a bookish fellow, hardly into adulthood if his goatee was anything to go by. She never spoke to the lad on his own, his two brothers coveting his time and attention.

Bofur and Bombur were next to introduce themselves, each looking rather different from the other. Bombur was well-fed, covered in freckles and had braided his ginger hair into a low-hanging wreath around his neck. Bofur, on the other hand, had a much slimmer and muscled build, with crazy dark hair and impish dimples. Bofur quickly showed himself as a rather mischevious character with his funny hat and an endless stream of jokes. Bombur, on the other hand, was sweet and mild-mannered, as well as a _very_  good cook (At least, according to his brother). Finally, there was Bifur, cousin to Bombur and Bofur. He looked rather insane, hair ratty and eyes crossed funnily. Through a keen eye and listening ears, Kaia learned that Bifur could not speak anything but jumbled Khuzdul, the language of Dwarves, due to the rusty Orcen axe permanently embedded in his head.

They were a very lively bunch and seemed more inclined to accept her after witnessing Gandalf's warm greeting, and her kind treatment towards Fíli and Kíli. Suddenly they were all asking questions, making jokes, drinking, and shouting. Poor Bilbo seemed to be beside himself as mud was tracked through the house, his cupboards were picked completely bare, and his household items were trifled carelessly with.

 It was even worse during clean-up as his best dishes were tossed and juggled to a song of the dwarves' making as they washed up. He looked ready to cry by the time they'd finished singing at his expense and neatly stacking the many plates and bowls on the mahogany table, freshly cleaned without a scratch. They were all laughing by the end, as Bilbo shoved his way to the table in a panic, only to be stopped short by the perfectly fine dinnerware. Kaiamær decided, to save the Hobbit further heartache, that she would be the one to help next. Carefully, she used her balance and dexterity to place the stacks along her arms, turning to Bilbo once she had finished.

"Where should I put these, Master Baggins," She asked kindly, rewarded with a relieved smile and a muttered thanks. He pointed her toward their storage places just as a heavy knock upon the door boomed through the house. She continued to the cabinets, even as a hush fell upon the 12 dwarves sitting in the dining room.

"He is here," Gandalf announced in but a whisper, causing Kaia's brow to crinkle under her mask. She paid it no mind, however, as she swiftly started to evenly distribute the pristine plates. The rest of the company headed excitedly toward the door. It was only when she finished her task, that she made her way back to the dining room. She could easily listen from there.

"-ell, I have some skill at Conkers, if you must know, but I fail to see why that's relevant," Came Bilbo's voice, dryer than a desert.

"I thought as much. He looks more like a _grocer_   than a burglar." Came the scathing reply from a deep male voice, causing laughter to bubble up amongst the dwarves. She wrinkled her nose, appalled by the particularly rude treatment of such a gracious host. Footsteps could be heard as the small army of dwarves started back toward the dining room.

"Ah, Thorin, there is another thing-" Gandalf's voice could be heard, much closer to her location, but was quickly cut off by a voice just inside the room.

"And who is _this?_ I asked for a Burglar, Gandalf, no one else." The newest Dwarf thundered. He looked very majestic in his finer Dwarven robes, wavy black hair falling in a neat mane and braids glittering in the light. What truly made him stand out to her was his nose. She'd know that severe shape anywhere, he was a Durin.  _Ah, so this is the leader of the company,_  she thought.

" _Ah, he seems just as reasonable as you spoke of,_ " She told Gandalf ruefully in Sindarin, the mother tongue of elves. It would do her no good for Thorin Oakenshield to hear her words, for that was who he must have been if he were a Durin. He seemed further angered by the use of the Elven language, taking a threatening step toward her.

"That's Kai-"  Fíli spoke up quickly.

"Of Evendim!" Finished Kíli. He gave his kin a sidelong glance, having a silent conversation with his brother.

"Yes, and a very dear friend of mine recommended he come along on this journey. He is well-versed in swordplay, bowmanship, and is able to speak a great many languages." Gandalf cut in smoothly, trying to soothe the ruffled King.

"I do not trust the race of _men_ , especially one who wears a mask and speaks in the language **Vanyali,** " Thorin spit out his language's word for Elves. She straightened her shoulders at the insult, coming to the conclusion that he would not accept her help. It was sad to find that the Dwarven race had become so mistrusting of her, after the millennia of friendship she once had with them. She started to rise, preparing herself to thank Mister Baggins for his hospitality, apologize to Gandalf, and leave on amicable terms.

" _Wait just a moment, Kaiamær. Let me convince him,"_ Gandalf stopped her in Sindarin. Several dwarves hissed at the continued use of the language but made no further comment. He waited for her to incline her head before continuing. "You'll have to forgive his continued wearing of it. He was greatly scarred in battle, and is using the mask so as not to frighten or unsettle those he passes in travel."

At this smooth lie, many of the Dwarves turned to look upon her with sympathy. Thorin, however, only seemed partially placated by this. He was still staring her down with obvious distaste, making her feel distinctly uncomfortable. This was the very reason she had isolated herself, to escape the ridicule that followed her.

  " _It is no use, he is a pig-headed as any King, it is to be expected from his line,_ " She told Gandalf sadly, standing and beginning to walk forward. Gandalf pinned her down with a most frightening stare, stopping her dead in her tracks. Radagast had mentioned Gandalf only in passing and never in his descriptions did he mention how _intimidating_ the old wizard could be.

"And he wears it now because...?" Thorin asked suspiciously, most likely assuming she could not speak Westeron for her communication with Gandalf.

"I wear it now because I like them even less than those who have had the displeasure of looking upon them." She answered in Westeron, tired of this exhausting game. "I would never go without it. Apologies, your Majesty, but my wearing of it is something I will not concede."

His eyes snapped to her in obvious surprise, stunned to silence. Her use of his proper title seemed to mollify him somewhat, but he still stared at her figure. He seemed to be sizing her up, weighing the risk and reward of her accompaniment on this journey. He reluctantly nodded after a drawn-out silence, arms folding together.

"Very well, you may join us on this quest. However, I take no responsibility for you or your safety," He told her sternly, pale blue eyes boring into the holes of her mask.

"Fair enough," She answered simply.

"Give him a contract," Thorin ordered, and Balin quickly placed one in her hands.

"Now, I was promised food." Thorin turned to Gandalf with a hard stare, eyes speaking of a more private conversation at a later date. Then, the company was 14.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you guys think!


	3. Of Quests and Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin talks, Kaiamær contemplates, and Bilbo has a nervous breakdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments! It really brightens my day when I know someone enjoyed my story. So, in the spirit of that, I decided to add a chapter early. Enjoy!

As Thorin ate, they spoke of the quest and their plan to retake Erebor. Their proposal was well thought out, speaking of the care that had been taken to construct it. She listened intently, never speaking so as not to draw attention to herself. She could already recognize the uneasiness that surrounded her person, especially now that their leader was in their midst. It was easy enough for most of them to leave her be when he hadn't been there, but he was like a treasure to them, one that they had to keep from outsiders at all costs. She did not blame them for this, they had lost too much already.

She quickly learned that Thorin had just come from an assembly of Dwarven representatives, each vouching for the 7 dwarven armies. He had pleaded his case, and they had denied him: there would be no aid. The mood was soon dampened, doubt and disquiet starting to fill the air. Many shared their concerns, looking defeated before their journey had even begun. 

It was the way Thorin spoke in the next moments that convinced her of his ability to lead. When his kin became doubtful, he had raised their spirits, and when they had become too rowdy he had just as easily silenced them. He wielded an air of great authority, and the others respected him greatly. He had the bearing of a true leader, in that she was certain. She _would_ admire him, if he weren't so pigheaded.

Their host, for his part, had the look of a man on the precipice of a nervous breakdown. Still, his interest was most definitely peaked, for he listened intently, soaking up every word that was said. She knew stigma against Adventures in the Shire, but by the way his eye lit up at the word 'adventure' before he remembered himself spoke of a deep yearning to follow them. The poor thing was most likely experiencing great inner turmoil, something that she could easily relate to. She felt uneasy for him, unsure of how he would be welcomed after such a harrowing quest when he returned. It helped her peace of mind, however, to see Gandalf defending the Hobbit to the last. He had great faith in Bilbo's abilities, more faith than even Bilbo himself. Then again, the creature didn't have much faith, but she could tell by his general being that he was pure of heart. It was the best anyone could ask for when going on a Quest.

The others most definitely did _not_ see it that way, however. Thorin treated him like a pest he had yet to get rid of, brushing his curiosity, questions, and even insightful comments aside. Many of the others followed their King's lead, ignoring the Hobbit altogether. Bofur was the only one to continue to interact with Mister Baggins, focusing his jokes on the unsuspecting creature.

The most amusing part of the night for most was when Bilbo fainted from sheer terror. It was during talks of the dragon they would face that he had become frightened, and after a detailed explanation of the horror of Dragonfire, poor Bilbo's heart just couldn't take it. Gandalf glared at all who had been responsible, namely Bofur. He didn't look the slightest bit chastened, however, nor had she expected him to be. 

While the others were laughing and arguing about it, she swiftly picked up the small creature and turned to face the others. Some of them looked surprised to see her, as if they'd forgotten that she had even come. This caused another shiver of excitement, it had been so  _long_  since she was so anonymous. She could find herself quite quickly becoming addicted to the feeling.

At her askance, Gandalf directed her to a smaller room with a cosy looking armchair and an unlit fireplace. Swiftly, she placed him onto the comfortable surface, checking him over for injuries. Gandalf stepped in to help her, starting the fire with a wave of his hand before grabbing a quilt from nearby. She set about making him tea, and by the time it was ready and she had come back to the room, he was awake once more. He'd taken the offered beverage gratefully, just holding it in his palms as a calming gesture.

"Thank you, Kai, I'll be alright. I just need a quiet moment alone," He looked up at her with a smile. She nodded again, glad to see some colour was returning to his cheeks. The others were crowding in the doorway, watching the scene before them. Most seemed rather perplexed, as she was a stranger who had shown such kindness to a seemingly worthless Hobbit. She paid them no mind.

" _Would you be so kind as to leave us for a moment, my lady?"_  Gandalf asked in Sindarin, to which she nodded and left the room. As soon as she turned toward the entryway, the others scattered, as if she didn't already know of their eavesdropping. She let out a small huff before exiting the sitting area. She quickly found a seat in the corner closest to the doorway, wanting to be there if she was needed once more. It was also conveniently close to this  _Thorin_ , as she wanted to get a better grasp of his character. Surely he couldn't be so arrogant as she had first thought.

He was leaning against the wall closest to the room where Bilbo and Gandalf spoke, seeming to gaze around the small Hobbit's home in contemplation. He settled upon her figure more than once, each time more mistrustful than the last. It was a common occurrence, no matter where she went, and with good reason. She could not fault him for wanting to protect his own from someone so mysterious to them. She had faith that they would give her a chance to prove herself, for if she had learned at least one thing this night it was that these dwarves had warm souls.

As if he could sense that she had noticed him looking, he hardened his stare. It would have been very intimidating, had she not been the person she was. No, instead of shrinking back like he no doubt thought she would, she calmly retrieved a block of wood and a knife. Under his intense gaze, she deliberately started to lazily whittle small chunks of it away. He seemed to realize that he was getting nowhere with his approach, for he grumpily turned away from her in obvious dismissal. 

Instead of taking offence, she shrugged, continuing her work. She had faced much worse, and more terrifying, a thing than the silent treatment from a petulant Dwarf King. The interaction was quickly broken by a saddened looking Bilbo walking past them and making his way deeper into the house. He had not agreed to go.

"It appears we have lost our burglar. Probably for the best," Balin spoke up, leaning against the wall across from Thorin. His face looked grim, older than it had previously. "The odds were always against us. After all, what are we? Merchants, Miners, tinkers, toymakers; hardly the stuff of legend."

"There are a few warriors amongst us," Thorin replied with a wry grin, before seeming to remember that she was there to observe and slipping back into his gruff mask.

"Old warriors." Balin scoffed, the curved end of his white beard ruffling in his movements.

"I will take each and every one of these dwarves over an army from the Iron Hills. For when I called upon them, they came. Loyalty. Honour. A willing heart. I can ask no more than that," Thorin told him firmly, stepping away from the wall and straightening himself to his full height. She was pleasantly surprised by his convictions, staring at him with new eyes.

"You don't have to do this. You have a choice. You've done honourably by our people. You have built a new life for us in the Blue Mountains, a life of peace and plenty. A life that is worth more than all the gold in Erebor," Balin told him softly, leaning in to show the sincerity in his eyes.

"From my grandfather to my father, this has come to me," Thorin told Balin with force, holding up the key to the Dwarven door. "They dreamt of the day when the dwarves of Erebor would reclaim their homeland. There is no choice, Balin. Not for me."

"Then we are with you, laddie. We will see it done," Balin told him kindly clasping the arm of his comrade. Thorin looked greatly relieved and appreciative. After that had been settled, they both made their way to the main sitting room, and this time Kaiamær let them be. They clearly did not trust her, and they most definitely would not welcome her presence. It would be better to  _show_  them that she was not the sinister cloaked figure they thought her to be, and she couldn't prove it in just one night.

She stood, going in search for a comfortable surface to sleep on. She laid herself down on a nicely stuffed couch and settled in to sleep, for they had a long journey ahead. Though it was not, it seemed, the intent of the dwarves, for they began to sing a most forlorn song, recounting their lost mountain. She closed her eyes, soaking in the thick emotions in the air, the grief that struck a chord within her. She felt she had made the right choice by coming along. It was an earnest and noble quest. Listening to their tune, she was lulled by the guttural hums as they sang long into the night.

**⤬⤬⤬⤬⤬**

The company rose early to clean the house and set out from Bree. With 14 of them, not including Gandalf, it was a quick job indeed. It had them leaving for the waystation a mere hour after wakefulness. Though she was reluctant to leave the small Hobbit without so much as a goodbye, she knew the others would have left her behind as well. So, with a nod of reassurance from Gandalf, she had left with them and had not looked back.

Most of the company steered clear of Kaiamær, which was unsurprising. Thorin had obviously stamped an unspoken seal of disapproval over her, and those in the company were inclined to follow suit. What  _was_  surprising was the constant conversation given by Filí and Kilí, who didn't seem to mind her mysterious appearance one bit. They also didn't seem to mind the warning glares Thorin was sending them every 30 seconds. At first, just as the previous night, the dwarves closest to the three seemed to tense in preparation for insult or perhaps a reason to mistrust her further. She gave them neither.

She was amicable in her questions and answers, learning of their life in the blue mountains, their family, and their respective hobbies. She quickly learned that they were both barely of age, and had to spend much time convincing Thorin, their Uncle, to allow them along on this journey. In turn, she told them of her parents and siblings, explaining her peaceful island City and her own struggles to be allowed to travel. Of course, she was careful not to name names, or add dates to any of her explanations, if she was to be a man, then she'd have to pretend to have lived a very short time indeed.

She learned Kíli was very much into Archery and mischief, presenting her with his well-made bow and arrows. They bonded over their mutual love for shooting things from long distances and strange jokes. Fíli, on the other hand, had a particular love for Daggers and a fondness for History. In turn, she told him of her travels to the most obscure of sights she had seen, that ones that still stood, at least. 

Even as she became animated discussing their mutual interests, she remained respectful in the way she addressed them. The other Dwarves seemed rather surprised that she knew the Dwarven Customs pertaining to conversations with their royalty but nonetheless left them be to chatter away. Eventually, the others relaxed, seemingly mollified by the way she shared information just and freely as the princes. Of course, she left out the number of years it had been since she had travelled to certain places or the terrible events that may or may not have occurred in said locations.

By the time they arrived in Bree, Thorin and Balin setting out to find horses, the others seemed to be considerably less tense around her. Even the shy and bookish Ori had taken to asking hesitant but hopeful questions about the more obscure stories, furiously scribbling down her recountings in his seemingly ever-present journal. He seemed to think that she'd get tired of his questions, but she was just happy for the company. She hadn't seen another living being, save animals, for a century and a half.

Still, when they were back on the road, Thorin was not deterred by the pleasant conversation within The Company. He continued to send suspicious looks and distrustful glances at every opportunity, to which she just shrugged her shoulders at him. Each time this would happen, he would huff and glare forward. Eventually, she stopped acknowledging him altogether in for of listening to a particularly hilarious story of when Ori was mistaken for a Dwarrowdam. 

They were only a short ways past Bree when the peaceful atmosphere was broken by shouting. She knew exactly who it was, smiling underneath her mask in gladness. She hadn't doubted that he would go after them, it was just that she had been worried he would not be able to catch up.

"Wait! Wait!" Bilbo called out, jumping over roots and avoiding trees. As he got closer, she could see the contract waving in his hand. He was like a child in his glee, cheeks flushed from exertion. Her heart ached, for at that moment he reminded her so much of her younger siblings. Siblings that she would never again lay eyes upon.

"Woah," She slowed her pony at Thorin' s command, all of them coming to a stop.

"I signed it!" Announced Bilbo, pausing to catch his breath. He eventually gave the contract to Balin when he held out his hand, finally starting to breathe normally. Balin pulled out a magnifying glass to inspect the signature on the parchment. 

"So we meet again, Master Bilbo." She greeted him warmly, starting to distribute the luggage from one of the horses onto the backs of others so as to make room for the small hobbit.

"W-well, I, um... yes. I suppose we do." Bilbo stuttered, scratching the back of his neck.

"Everything appears to be in order. Welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield!" Balin announced happily, causing most of the others to cheer, save Thorin.

"Give him a pony," Thorin ordered grudgingly, forcing Kaiamær to hold back a giggle.

"No, no, no, no, that-that won't be necessary, thank you, but I'm sure I can keep up on foot. I- I've done my fair share of walking holidays, you know. I even got as far as Frogmorton once- WAGH!" Mister Baggins began to protest before letting out a squawk of indignation as the two closest members grabbed an arm each and hoisted him onto the beast she had just freed space upon.

"Come on, Nori, pay up. Go on," Oín Waved his hand. Nori Reluctantly tossed him a small pouch of money. And then began the exchanging of coin amongst the others as well.

"What's that about?" Bilbo asked suspiciously.

"Oh, they took wagers on whether or not you'd turn up. Most of them bet that you wouldn't." Gandalf informed him good-naturedly, to which Bilbo scowled.

"What did you think?" The Hobbit asked him with a glare.

"Hmmm." Was Gandalf's only reply. Quickly a rather heavy pouch was tossed his way, to which he caught with ease. "My dear fellow, I never doubted you for a second. Neither did Kai." 

He added the last bit when she caught her own bag of money, slipping it into one of the pockets within her cloak. Bilbo seemed slightly mollified by this, not seeming to notice Thorin's murderous glare. She didn't really blame the man. He _had_  lost the most money, after all. She was broken from her thoughts by a most violent sneeze from Bilbo.

"Ohh. All this horse hair, I'm having a reaction." He elaborated before rummaging through his pockets. He stopped, and snapped his head up in a panic, "No, no, wait, wait, stop! Stop! We have to turn around. I forgot my handkerchief!"

"Here! Use this." Bofur told him, ripping a strip of cloth from his outfit before tossing it to the miserable hobbit. He caught it before looking at the dirty rag in disgust.

"Move on," Thorin ordered, sneering Bilbo's way. Kaiamær glared behind her mask, allowing a sinister aura to lightly emanate from her being.  She was very much tired of his rude behaviour toward those with a different lifestyle than his. As if sensing her eyes burning holes into his being, he snapped his head around. He sent her a glare of his own before he reluctantly faced forward. She grabbed a cloth from one of her own pockets, a clean one this time, and handed it off to the small creature riding beside her.

"This should suffice for now," She told him kindly. He hesitantly took it before gaping at the simple, yet flawless, stitching.

"How-" He asked, flabbergasted.

"Needlework is a talent of mine. Keep it, I have more." She replied simply. He handled it carefully, smiling gratefully. Gandalf seemed grateful for her kindness, but also slightly annoyed with Bilbo for his askance.

"You'll have to manage without pocket-handkerchiefs and a good many other things, Bilbo Baggins, before we reach our journey's end. You were born to the rolling hills and little rivers of the Shire, but home is now behind you; the world is ahead," Gandalf chastised, causing Bilbo to shrink back at the uncomfortable thought. He reluctantly nodded, to the approval of the old wizard, before he refocused on the road ahead. And, just like that, the company was 15.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it good? Is it terrible? Do you want more? Let me know!


	4. A Sword and A Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As their journey starts to get underway, both sides make new discoveries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's another chapter, guys! I know the story is at the unfortunate length where it's almost too long for a quick read but not long enough to really get into the story. I'll try to update a little bit quicker for the next few chapters so that you feel as though the story is getting somewhere. 
> 
> Also, if you were wondering, Rivermaids are a canon species in the Tolkien 'Verse. I got the inspiration from Tom Bombadil's wife Goldberry, and I am using her for the basis of my character's abilities. Tolkien doesn't specifically call her this, but LOTR Online decided to name her species that, so I just went with it. Anyway, enjoy!

There were no true hiccups in their journey until they'd set up camp the fourth night. They had decided to settle in an alcove made of rock, not far from a very steep cliff. Bombur set to making supper while the others talked and laughed. All save the Grump under the Mountain. Kaiamær paid no mind, however, and began to set up her bedroll before sitting down and pulling out her sharpening stone. The unsheathing of her blade was cause for stares and silence, confusing Bilbo and making Thorin tense. He stalked his way over to her, stopping just a few feet away to glare at her. He was most definitely trying to loom, if Bilbo's scared shiver was anything to go by. She looked up calmly, not scared in the least.

"Where did you get this blade?" He asked her darkly. She looked up at him, giving him a one-armed shrug as he could not see her facial expression.

"It was given to me by an old friend. He crafted it for me, in truth," She answered simply. He seemed unsatisfied with her vague answer, not that she had expected him to be. Thorin held out a questioning, if impatient, hand. She reluctantly handed it over, watching as the King twirled it in front of him, testing it's weight and make. One look at the inscription along the blade, however, and he froze once more.

" **Vol Sagh Rak Dawi,** _"_  He read aloud, causing the other dwarves to murmur at their spoken language.

"What does that mean?" Bilbo asked Thorin, only to be ignored by the still-frowning royal. Bilbo looked a bit put out by Thorin's cold demeanour, scowling petulantly at his rudeness. Kaiamær put a friendly hand upon his shoulder in comfort.

"It is Khuzdul, for  _Eternal Friend of Dwarves_ " She answered, to which Bilbo looked very grateful for her inclusion of him. Thorin seemed even more perplexed, most likely wondering if she knew  _all_  Khuzdul.

"And what act was so great that he would dub you this, Master Kai?" Dwalin asked her in suspicion, gaze hardening.

"I saved his family," Was all she said. He clearly wanted her to elaborate, but she was not forthcoming with the information for once. Dwalin stared her down, and she stared back, caught in a battle of wills. It was Bilbo who came to her rescue, oblivious curiosity winning over his nervous silence.

"So that's an authentic Dwarven blade? With actual Dwarvish?" Bilbo asked her incredulously, before leaning in to whisper: "Aren't they extremely secretive about who knows their language?" 

"We are, Master Hobbit," Thorin answered for her, suspicion ruling his gaze for mere seconds before he turned to her with his regular sour expression. "It is of a mastered make, there are few of such craftsmanship. You should take pride in the gift of your Dwarf friend." 

"I do," She answered honestly. He looked as though he were going to give it back to her, until he noticed something else, bringing the blade closer for inspection. She held back a sigh, wondering what had his attention _now._

"Though I am unsure of the word above this phrase, I have not seen it in any Dwarrow texts." He spoke up once more,  pointing to the aforementioned inscription. She looked at it, silently cursing. She had forgotten that her name, her full name, was engraved upon the blade as well.

"Ah, it is my name in Dwarvish, Kaimaðr. The first letters spell out your word for sea, and the second half is a hybrid from your word for the race of man and my old language's word for it." She fibbed quickly. It was true enough, just that it was supposed to be the feminine version. "It may have errors, as my name does not translate directly in Khuzdul, or so I am told."

Thorin seemed unsure, suspicious even. Eventually, though, he carefully handed the blade back with a nod, finished with his inspection. He didn't offer any other comments, silently marching to the edge of camp to keep watch. She watched him go, glad that no one could see her flushed cheeks. She had always been a terrible liar, face turning a rosy red whenever she even _tried_ to. With a mask, it became infinitely easier, her voice never shook and her posture remained straight. It was her face that gave her away every time, but her face was taken from the equation. She wasn't sure how she felt about her handicap.

"That was the longest I have ever heard him speak to me," Kaiamær remarked bemusedly, causing the others to snicker.

"Don't take it personally, laddie. He's like that with everyone," Nori told her not unkindly, making her nod appreciatively at him. The conversation soon turned to other subjects as the food was passed out and spirits rose. She kept glancing at the leader of their company, it was something about him that had her eyes slipping his way without her say-so. She shook herself, lifting her mask enough to eat her food, and joining in the merriment.

It was after supper that everyone settled down for the night. Thorin had come back to camp, though he still kept watch at the edge of it, ever a sentinel in the night. Kaiamær had a feeling that he would be doing this every night, aiming to keep those he was with safe. She had heard the stories of the dragon, and she did not blame him for being overzealous in his fight to protect those in his charge. She stayed awake long enough to properly sharpen her sword before laying herself down to sleep.

**⤬⤬⤬⤬⤬**   

Her rest was not meant to last, woken sometime later into the night by a distant howl that she knew too well: Warg-Scouts. She sat up, straining her ears to try to ascertain where it was coming from. The beast let out another howl, helping her to pinpoint the location. It was far off to the west of their location, too much distance between them for the Wargs to be an issue. She relaxed, taking her hand off the hilt of her sword.

"What was that?" Bilbo asked, at some point in time he had gotten up, it seemed. By his rumpled appearance, she guessed he had not had the best luck with slumber.

"Orcs," Kíli spoke up quickly, taking on a conspiratorial tone. Bilbo gasped, horrified at the very thought.

"Throatcutters. There'll be dozens of them out there," Fíli piped up, not to be left out. "The lowlands are crawling with them."

"They strike in the wee small hours when everyone's asleep. Quick and quiet; no screams, just lots of blood." Kíli added, making a cutting motion against his neck. Bilbo was shaking now, peering out into the forest in a panic. The boys looked at each other before breaking out into giggles.

"You think that's funny? You think a night raid by Orcs is a joke?" Thorin asked them angrily, standing to loom over his kin.

 "They meant nothing by it, Oakenshield." She defended softly, causing him to look her way with another glare. It seemed to be his default expression, and that was just unfortunate for a Dwarf so handsome. 

"No, they didn't, because they know nothing of the world," He hissed before stomping off in a huff. Kaiamær let out a noise of aggravation, watching as he stopped at the edge of the cliff nearby, looking out into the great ravine below.

"Pay him no mind, lads. He has more of a reason than most to hate Orcs," Balin told the boys quietly, laying a comforting hand on the shoulder of the brother sitting closest.

"You're not talking about the quest for Moria, are you?" Kaiamær asked suddenly, gaze snapping up. She remembered hearing the story in passing the last time she had ventured from Evendim.

"Aye, I am," Balin nodded his confirmation.

"What's the quest for Moria?" Bilbo asked with interest, fear all but forgotten.

"Well, after the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria, an underground city beneath the Misty Mountains. But our enemy had gotten there first: It had been taken by legions of Orcs. And they were lead by the worst Orc of all..." Balin trailed off, looking stricken with grief.

"Azog, the Defiler," Kaia continued encouragingly, nodding at Balin's grateful smile.

"He promised the extinction of the line of Durin, beginning by beheading the King," Balin continued, voice deepening in sorrow.  "Thrain, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief and went missing. Taken prisoner or killed, we still do not know."

The whole camp seemed silent, waiting for the next piece of the story. Fíli and Kíli's expressions were filled with wonder, Ori was furiously taking notes in his journal, and Bilbo... Bilbo looked terrified. The others weren't enjoying this story, however. Many had anger and sorrow written plainly across their features. They could not find entertainment in this tale, for they had been there themselves.

"We thought all was lost, the Orcs had driven us back and cut down our numbers," Balin paused for effect. "That is when I saw him: a young dwarf prince facing down the Pale Orc. He stood alone against this terrible foe, his armour rent... Wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield-"

Kaia turned to look at the subject of the story, filled with awe at the bravery of one Dwarf. He still stood with his hands clasped behind his back, looking out into the great valley below them. He was either unaware or had no desire to take part in the conversation, for he stood in a statuesque fashion, never moving save his hair billowing in the slight breeze. She shook herself and turned back to face the others, listening once more to the elderly Dwarf's words.

"-rove the orcs back. Our enemy had been defeated. But there was no feast, no song, that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived. And I thought to myself then, there is one who I could follow. There is one I could call King," Balin finished, voice reverent and proud.

It was then that Thorin turned back and walked the short way to the camp, paying no mind to the awed stares of his companions. Kaiamær found that she had gained a modicum of respect for him this night. She had heard the story, yes. It was told that Thorin, son of Thraín, had defeated Azog, but it did not tell of how much of a struggle he had, the pain he had suffered for it. Perhaps it was due to her only hearing it in passing, or perhaps Balin was a better wordsmith than most. Either way, she saw him in a new light.

"But the pale orc? What happened to him?" Bilbo hesitantly spoke up, curiosity getting the better of him.

"He slunk back into the hole whence he came. That filth died of his wounds long ago." Thorin bit out, venom dripping from his words. He glowered at Bilbo for even mentioning it, the Hobbit shrinking back in fear, all curiosity lost. Kaia let out a soft sigh, just when she started to like the man, he would turn around and stomp his way out of her good graces once more.

"Right," Bilbo answered, seeming to wilt further the longer Thorin gave him his stare. Kaia rolled her eyes underneath her mask.

"Pay His Broodiness no mind, it was a fair question," She told him gently, patting his shoulder. Ignoring the fact that Thorin's scowl was now focused on her. "Now get some sleep, little one. We have a long way to go."

Bilbo nodded, seemingly consoled as he laid back down, following her instruction. Thorin scowled at her one last time before stomping his way over to his own bedroll, angrily situating it before he laid himself down. Kaiamær just shook her head, sitting closer to the small Hobbit in a protective manner. It seemed that Thorin disliked the fact that the company now had two outsiders, and had decided to single them out and make them feel unwelcome. She could easily handle his ire, but the gentle creature beside her most definitely could not. 

She could not understand why, but she felt something akin to how she had felt when her own siblings were in need around Bilbo: Like she could do nothing but help them no matter the situation. It was an emotion she hadn't experienced in centuries, sending a pang through her heart. She'd lost her family so long ago that she had almost forgotten what it had felt like, and now that she was remembering it was causing old pains to flare up unbidden. Even if it did cause her sorrow, it was good to find that this instinct still existed, even for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it good? Is it terrible? Do you want more? Let me know!


	5. Of Trolls and Hoards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group faces a few bumps along their journey, and Kaiamær learns that Thorin does, in fact, have emotions other than anger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's another chapter! Character development galore, new characters, and Bilbo being a BAMF.
> 
> Astályss- Pure in Love

There were three vital things that Kaiamær was learning on this quest: 

1\. Never leave Fíli and Kíli in charge of valuables. Ever.

2\. Bilbo a was a  _very_ clever creature, even under pressure. 

3\. Thorin's face was physically able to make other facial expressions than a scowl. Who knew?

These discoveries were each important in their own way, it was just that she wished that they didn't have to go through such perils to find these truths. The day had started peacefully enough, as most terrible events did. It was a fortnight into their journey, and they had been making such good time that Thorin had decided to let them set up camp early. The others were delighted, deciding to stop outside of the ruins of what appeared to be an old farmhouse, dilapidated walls covered in overgrown vines and moss. It was still easier to use the fallen wood planks from the fallen building than to go searching through the forest for fallen logs and branches.

Gandalf, in contrast to their leader, wanted them to continue going due to the uneasy feeling that had crept over him. Thorin, true to form, denied his request. It was not that he wanted them to continue onward, it was more of  _where_  he wanted them to go. He had casually suggested that they head toward Rivendell, one of the main cities to still exist for elves. It was the best idea to go, as none of the company could read the Dwarven map with any form of reliability. Gandalf seemed certain that Elrond, Lord of the Elves of Imladris, could decipher the code. 

Thorin, of course, did not take to the suggestion well, posturing and spitting at the mention of Elves. They preceded to squabble over it, and after a particularly venomous reply, Gandalf stalked off to clear his thoughts. Kaiamær paid him no mind, as she had seen Radagast do this many times before. Some of his creatures could be particularly obtuse at times, and he would often go on walks to calm himself before trying to reason with them once more.

But this was just the firestarter, only one small spark in what would be a rather explosive affair. After they had set up camp and tied the ponies to a strong set of branches, Fíli and Kíli were chosen to take first watch over their transportation. The first mistake in a long line of terrible decisions. Thorin, of course, seemed in a darker mood than usual, most likely brooding over his earlier argument with Gandalf, whereas everyone else seemed happy to relax after so many days of hard travel. 

It was when Fíli broke through the treeline in a panic, telling them of trolls and stolen horses that the true events began. The horses had gone missing on the princelings' watch, taken by  _trolls_  right from under their noses. That wasn't even the worst of it, no. Bilbo had been convinced to infiltrate the camp, to burgle back their ponies. Many of the dwarves cursed, drawing their weapons and following Fíli back through the trees.

They found three large trolls, bickering over ways to cook the skinny little thing that had tried to set their dinner free. They seemed unable to come to an agreement, too distracted by the task at hand to notice the many Dwarves waiting at the treeline. It gave them the perfect moment to charge, taking the three ugly things by surprise. Bilbo was quickly freed as they cut and slashed at the trolls' legs, ground-shaking howls of pain following in their wake. It seemed they would win, until Bilbo was captured once more, caught just as he had succeeded to free the horses. He was quickly swung forward, high into the hair.

"Drop your arms, or he loses his!" The troll yelled, causing the others to stop and stare. For a moment, Kaiamær thought Thorin would say no, the way his eyes burned with rage and hatred. But he eventually set his weapon down, forcing the others to follow suit.

Soon, they were being tied up in various positions, and in various degrees of shame. The Dwarves were outraged at their treatment, shouting insults and detailed threats at their captors. She could not be bothered by the trivialities of her capture, however, as her mind was working overtime to find a way to get everyone out of this alive. Her first thought was to use her gifts, as she could most likely defeat them, even  _if_ she hadn't used them in a hundred years. The thought was quickly discarded, on account that some of the Dwarves were in her firing range. She would not risk her companions like that, she wasn't heartless after all. She sighed in frustration, at a loss for what to do.

Perhaps her only option was to trust that Gandalf would come for them, it was the only way they could truly come out of this unscathed. Besides, if she couldn't even put her faith in the one who asked her on this journey, then what was the point? She wondered if Gandalf even  _knew_ that they were in trouble. She furrowed her brow in worry, hoping that he did. She was quickly broken from her reverie by a large face leaning close to her captured frame.

"Wait, we can't eat this one, it smells like riverfolk," One of the trolls announced in annoyance after finishing her ties. The other two walked over to sniff at her form, faces reeling back with distaste. She assumed they hated her smell because she was clear and cleanly, the opposite of their grimy species.

"I smell seaweed and algae, it must be," Said the second, gnarled face also coming closer to look at her.

"Well we can't let 'im go, he'll try to spoil our meal!" Wailed the third, clearly distressed. The company seemed thoroughly confused, for they had never heard of a species such as this. She rolled her eyes, ignoring the conversation in favour of thinking of a plan. What was a way for her to get word to Gandalf? Hmm...

  "We can leave 'im be, and release 'im after dinner. That way we don't have the curse, right?" The third finished the thought, causing the others to make noises of ascent. With that settled, they began to boil their cauldron.  

Kaiamær inhaled sharply, coming up with an idea. She let out a whistle, short and high, almost like the sound from a pan flute. It garnered the attention of her companions, but not her squabbling captors, luckily. Now all she had to do was wait.

None but the company noticed the white crow flying from the woods and landing on the knees of the sitting Kaiamær. She whispered unintelligibly to the creature, confusing the others at her seeming ability to communicate with it. It tittered softly at her, before flying off once more. Even the birds, it seemed, would leave them to their fate.

That was when brave little Bilbo spoke up, his quick thinking and ability to talk shining through his terror. He complained of their horrible cooking methods of dwarves, bemoaning their status as novices. He "corrected" their seasonings, made them prepare extra steps for added "flavour," and droned on about the importance of cooking dwarf the right way. She knew exactly what was going on: a tactical delay.

The Trolls, despite being smart for their kind, still fell for his act. They took his advice, restarting their stew from scratch and gathering the right herbs. They looked almost excited to have someone with so much knowledge of finer foods, seemingly tired of the blandness their own cook within the group prepared for them each night.

By now, the Dwarves were hissing and cursing Bilbo's name, detailing all the things they would do to him when they got loose. She understood why, he  _was_ being rather insulting to them, from an outsider's viewpoint. The tricks could only last for so long, however, and Bilbo was quickly faced with a new dilemma: two of their own were about to be skinned at his suggestion. Kaiamær prepared herself, ready to rip free of her bonds and try to save them. It was better that some got hurt while she got most of them out of this, than to watch them all be eaten.

"N-not that one! He's got worms... In his tubes," Bilbo spoke up once more, silver tongue and Hobbiton charm set to full blast.

"He what?" One of the trolls asked in horror, dropping poor Bombur from 15 feet in the air. He would definitely be bruised in the morning.

"Yes, he's got parasites, you see?" Bilbo was quick to continue, face screwed up in panic. He was running out of ideas, she knew. "In fact, they all do! Terrible business, it is, I wouldn't risk it."

The trolls looked at a loss for what to do, the Hobbit had been so helpful with preparations that the trolls were reluctant to believe he was lying. The dwarves, on the other hand, were infuriated cursing and shouting at poor Bilbo, calling him a traitor to the company. It was Thorin who seemed to finally get it, for he kicked the others and they switched their tune. Suddenly,  _of course_ , they all had parasites,  _didn't you know that_ _it's_ _common with dwarves?_

Their ruse couldn't last much longer, for the trolls became enraged, finally catching on to the small creature's trickery. They had had enough, one troll grabbing 3 of the Dwarves, heading for the cauldron while another one menacingly stepped toward Bilbo. She closed her eyes in relief when she heard the shout of a familiar, and oh so welcome, voice.

"The dawn will take you all!" Gandalf shouted, standing atop of a large rock overlooking the clearing. The trolls seemed confused and unimpressed with the old man's appearance, looking ready to grab him as well. Then he struck the boulder with his staff, causing it to crack in two. Suddenly, the three trolls began to howl and scream, covering their faces and cowering in agony. The one weakness of trolls was put to use: They would turn to stone in sunlight.

Kaiamær took the time to effortlessly slide herself out of her bonds, using a small amount of magic to ease the way. The others were not so lucky, unable to break loose from their various entrapments, and in their own embarrassment. Noticing their need for help, She and Gandalf began to untie them, both trying desperately to suppress their laughter. None of the Dwarves would appreciate the humour of the situation, at least not until they were _far_ away from the scene of their shame. They still seemed to sense their amusement, however, as the Dwarves only muttered grouchily as thanks for their help.

"Where did you go to, if I may ask?" Thorin spoke up a few moments later, rubbing his sore wrists.

"To look ahead," Gandalf answered simply, sporting a wan smile.

"What brought you back?" He asked him dubiously, seemingly unsatisfied with his answer.

"Looking behind." The old man replied with a twinkle in his eye, clearly enjoying aggravating the Dwarf. "In truth, it was Kai's loyal companion that alerted me to your predicament."

She was then met with suspicious and curious stares in equal measure. She huffed out a sigh, before letting out the same whistle as before. Those closest to her covered their ears, grumbling at her in annoyance. It wasn't that her whistle was harsh, it was more of the level of sound it took. She paid them no mind, just held out her arm as a perch. The same white crow as before quickly flew into view and landed upon her crooked elbow.

"This is Astályss. She has been my faithful companion for many years." Kaiamær explained, reaching out and gently running her knuckles down the bird's head. It seemed to lean into it, letting out a contented chirp.

"Of course you would have a  _white_ _crow_ _,_  of all things," Thorin muttered darkly, glaring at the bird in question.

"There is nothing wrong with a white crow as a friend, they are loyal and trustworthy creatures," She answered in confusion.

"But they're volatile and can't speak Westeron!" Dwalin spoke up in annoyance. "We kept crows as messengers. The black ones worked just fine, but the White crows were too much trouble, so we left 'em be."

"White Crows  _can_ speak Westeron, but only to those we deem worthy. Clearly, my brethren found a Kingdom of arrogant Dwarves who would chain them like slaves as unworthy," Astályss spoke up for the first time, causing the others to stare. After a moment of shock, the others started to catch up with her sentence, anger colouring their features. "They're rather rude, Kai. Must we help them?"

"Now, now, friend. That's not true." She told her gently, humour colouring her words. This seemed to placate the Dwarves until she continued with: "Bilbo's still a nice fellow, he's one of those Hobbits, the ones you love so much for giving you extra seeds."

"I suppose the halfling is tolerable, then. But the others are horrendous," Her friend muttered to her, not understanding the anger growing on most of the others' faces.

"Why you-" Dwalin started.

"I'll show  _you_ horrendous, you undergrown chicken-" Dori growled.

"I've always wanted to make crow stew-" Bombur muttered.

"I could use a few feathers for my hat-" Bofur suggested menacingly.

"So, trolls!" Gandalf announced brightly, talking over the others. "Nasty business. Still, you are all in one piece."

The others grumbled and glared, but seemed to quiet down at his obvious misdirect. Astályss, as if sensing the danger of staying, flew off, muttering about scouting ahead. Kaiamær was glad, for her friend couldn't garner more ill-will if she wasn't part of the conversation. Astályss had never been subtle with her opinions, even when she ought to be. In fact, She and Thorin had something in common, in that respect.

"No thanks to your burglar," The surly Dwarf bit out. Gandalf seemed much less chipper then, brow wrinkling in a disapproving manner.

"He had the nous to play for time. None of the rest of you thought of that," Gandalf reminded him in annoyance. Thorin looked sufficiently chastised, causing Kaiamær to let out a huff of amusement. Despite it being barely audible, the Dwarf in question turned to glare at her for her perceived transgression.

"The trolls must have come down from the Ettenmoors," She spoke up quickly, not feeling particularly inclined to be scolded by the king-to-be. Thorin knew what she was attempting, and let it go with one last hard stare.

"Since when do mountain trolls venture this far south?" Thorin asked in utter confusion, returning to the conversation at hand.

"Oh, not for an age, not since a darker power ruled these lands." Gandalf mused, sharing a look with the Thorin. "They could not have moved in daylight."

"There must be a cave nearby," Thorin announced in understanding.

She let out a put-upon sigh as Thorin informed the others and they merrily went on their way searching for said treasure hoard. She shook her head distastefully, for she did not see the appeal to mountains of useless trinkets. Her opinion mattered little in that moment, however, for the others seemed determined to find it. She let out another sigh before beginning to trudge after them.

**⤬⤬⤬⤬⤬**

As the others were staring in awe of the treasure inside the cave they had found, she stood at the mouth of it, keeping watch. She had no interest in gold or jewels, so she was letting the others look at It freely without having to worry about looking out for danger.

It was peaceful from her vantage point, the warm breeze causing her cloak to billow with it. The quiet was a welcome reprieve from the constant noise of Dwarves, even if for one moment. When she heard the clearing of the throat she turned to face the sound, finding Thorin standing behind her. One moment was all she had it seemed. Still, he did not seem to be angry with her for once, so perhaps the conversation would be a bit more pleasant.

"You have fought well this day," Thorin praised with a nod of acknowledgement, looking surprised at his own sentence.

"I'm sensing a 'however,' waiting for me," She answered in amusement. Instead of becoming angry, he nodded looking contemplative. Her eyes went wide, completely thrown off by this completely reasonable side of him.

"I must confess, you surprised me, I had not believed Gandalf when he told me of your skills." He admitted openly, frowning in thought.

"Oh? And what caused this great scepticism?" She asked good-naturedly, deciding to go along with his lighter mood while it lasted.

"Well, there is your height, for one. As you are of the race of men, you are seen as very short for your kind." He told her faux-seriously, brow quirking upward in humour as well.

"I still have a few inches on you," She told him dryly, enjoying his annoyed scowl for her efforts. For a moment she feared she had ruined the moment of peace, but he wasn't truly irritated for the comment. It wasn't long before his scowl morphed back into a look of peace and neutrality.

"Then there is the cloak." He continued gesturing at said item. "It completely envelopes you, much like that of a healer or mage' s cloak. A warrior tends to have something more manoeuvrable."

"I'd rather be warm and protected. Besides, the number of pockets in this cloak is gloriously absurd." She pointed out, smirking at the double take he gave the material. He was most likely measuring how many hidden items she had.

"Then there are your mannerisms. You tend to be rather... unobtrusive to say the least. It is very strange for one of your species," He continued on after a moment, eyes seeing her in a new light with each answer she gave.

"I apologize for my lack of shouting and perceived fearlessness." She answered with a quiet huff. "It is better to listen to the words of others than to drown them out with words of your own. When you learn to hear instead of making others hear you, you tend to learn the things that most would never know. You have a distinct advantage."

They stood there in contemplative silence for a moment, only the sounds of the forest and the delighted murmurs of dwarves inside the cave could be heard. He seemed to be mulling over her words, his usual sour expression still scarce. It took years off of him, making him look almost like a dwarfling in its innocence. She was still in a state of surprise at his willingness to converse so freely with her, though she knew the questions he asked were not the ones he truly wanted.

"Kai," He broke the silence measuredly, "What did those trolls mean when they called you 'riverfolk?'"

She was about to answer him when Astályss came flying to her in a panic. Thorin stood straighter, mood broken, replaced with a sense of foreboding. Instead of speaking in common tongue, she used her species' language, letting out 4 chirps in quick succession. Kaiamær seemed to easily understand, nodding along to the news. She sucked in a breath, before turning to the mouth of the cave.

"We must move, something is coming!" She called out urgently. Perhaps the action wasn't over after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it good? Is it terrible? Do you want more? Let me know!


	6. A Welcome Friend and Unwelcome Enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaiamær finds herself faced with an old friend, and the company learns a bit more about Hobbits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, yay! I'm so sorry for the cliffhanger (well, not really if you've watched/read The Hobbit, but still), it was just getting atrociously long, and I had to cut it off before it became a monster. I'll probably update in two-ish days so that I don't feel like a terrible person by just leaving it there. Anyway, enjoy and be sure to let me know what you think!
> 
> Note: The Hobbitish names mentioned are completely made up, used purely as a plot device. The only two Hobbits that are actually canonical characters are Bandobras Took and Adamanta Chubb. I had to have some character development, and I decided that my OC would have some experience with the best species of Middle Earth.
> 
> P.S. I live for Astályss being a Sassmaster. I'm a Slytherin trying to write the most Hufflepuff-y character I can manage, and I needed the dry humour.

As the others emerged quickly from the cave, the almost personable Thorin vanished, giving way to the battle-hardened warrior that she had become so used to. While they all drew their swords, she idly hoped that it would not be the last she would see of this side of him, it was rather more pleasant than his normal demeanour. She shook herself, drawing her own blade. 

The others looked to him for guidance, and he did not disappoint as he lead them further into the forest. Despite their fast pace, their pursuer seemed just as speedy, seemingly on their heels no matter what they did. They found themselves weaving in and out of trees in erratic patterns in a desperate attempt to out-manoeuvre their unseen foe. Still, their evasion couldn't last, and they eventually found themselves facing the unknown threat.

They had just hit a small clearing when something burst out from the treeline, making the others come to a stop, weapons at the ready. To Kaiamær's great surprise and delight, it was the crazy Brown Wizard, riding his customary sled, pulled along by his beloved rabbits. He wore his ever-present muddy brown robes- the reason for his namesake- with the edges continuing to fray with age. She quickly found herself relaxing, much to the confusion of those standing closest to her.

"Thieves! Fire! Murder!" Cried the old man, stopping in the middle of the company. The others seemed taken aback by the seemingly-mad man in front of them, with a long dried line of bird faeces running down the side of one head. Honestly, the white "river" in his hair had only seemed to grow, despite how she used to nag at him to wash it off regularly. 

"Radagast! Radagast the Brown. Ah. What on earth are you doing here?" Gandalf asked, surprise mixing with a bit of dread. She didn't blame him, Radagast had always been an... eccentric fellow, to say the least.

"I was looking for _you_ , Gandalf. Something's wrong. Something's terribly wrong..." The man told him earnestly, looking rather flustered. His gaze skittered around the rest of the group in suspicion, realizing that the other Wizard was not, in fact, alone. He didn't seem to recognize her from his passing glance, but she chalked it up to his fear and the multitude of Dwarves obscuring his view of her. It mattered little, she could wait a few moments longer to greet him.

"Yes?" Gandalf eventually asked when his fellow Wizard didn't elaborate. Radagast opened his mouth to speak but seemed to think better of it. Shaking his head as if to clear it, he opened his mouth once more, before sighing in defeat. He had most definitely forgotten what he was about to say. Kaiamær stifled a giggle.  _same old Radagast,_  she thought.

"Oh, just give me a minute. Um, oh, I had a thought, and now I've lost it. It was, it was right there,  
on the tip of my tongue," Radagast muttered rather dejectedly, before curling his tongue to reveal something on it. "Oh, it's not a thought at all; it's a silly old..." Radagast announced in muffled surprise, Gandalf reluctantly reaching in to grab what appeared to be a... "stick insect!" 

Kaiamær, helpless to stop it, let out a deep, full-bellied laugh at his antics. The others started, whipping around to stare at her for the uncharacteristic display. She sheathed her blade, stance completely loose and open, despite the glares and questioning looks she was being given by the majority of her companions. Her outburst also seemed to alert the brown Wizard, and after a moment of confusion, he finally recognized her. His face immediately brightened, hands clapping together as he moved in long strides toward her. She quickly found herself engulfed by his steadfast warmth.

"Ah, my old friend! It is good to see you!" He cried out happily. She smiled under the mask before weaving her arms around him as to reciprocate in their hug. He was just as gentle, and as bony, as she remembered. When she stepped back, she was able to get a closer glimpse of his face. His wrinkles, it seemed, had not deepened the in the slightest, or perhaps it was the blinding smile that detracted from his aged features.   _Yes_ , she thought,  _I_ _have_ _missed this dearly._

"Radagast, it has been too long." She answered warmly, clapping his arm with her hand.

"245 years, to be exact. Not by _my_ doing, either!" Radagast squinted one eye scoldingly while the other crossed to point inward. His scowl quickly morphed back into a smile as he took her appearance in. "The mask is new, did you craft it yourself?"

"Well, I  _do_ have hideous scars, you know. I couldn't very well subject everyone to an accidental peek." She defended lightheartedly while also informing him of her cover story. He nodded knowingly, eyes softening in understanding and sympathy. 

"Yes, I suppose that wouldn't have been an issue before... Still, it is lovely craftsmanship, my dear," He told her gently. "In any case, I'm glad to see you on this journey. I wasn't quite sure you would agree to join them at my request."

"Wait, so when you came as a favor for a friend... you meant Radagast?" Bilbo spoke up beside her, tone both hesitant and incredulous. By the look on his face, he was most likely wondering how someone so unobtrusive and steadfast could be friends with someone so... opposite.

"Yes, I owe him quite a debt," She answered simply, before turning back to the man in question with fond exasperation. "You know I would do anything you asked, you old coot. And ask you did, so here I am."

"Well, I know you have much less of an inclination for adventure these days, my dear. I wondered if it would be too much this time around," He confessed hesitantly, looking around nervously at their audience. She snickered, shaking her head at his display.

"Still as twitchy as ever, I see. Don't worry, they look a lot more unapproachable than they really are." She told him easily, amusement colouring her tone.

"Are you certain, friend? They seem rather... surly." Radagast asked her dubiously, eyeing each of the Dwarves with unease. Her companions seemed rather affronted but less so than her previous introduction. She took it for the improvement that it was.

"Don't worry, Astályss said the same thing. They just take getting some used to, is all," She told him with a laugh, the wink accompanying it completely covered.

"Where is she, anyway? I remember her scarcely leaving your side," Radagast mused, looking around. She let out a light whistle and, just like magic, Astályss came flying down out of nowhere, landing on her shoulder.

"If it isn't Loony-Locks," Astályss spoke up fondly, despite the slight pout the Wizard in front of her gave out at the nickname.

"I was hoping you'd grown manners since your companionship with dear Kai, but I see it was just a dream..." Radagast said with a wistful air. Astályss made a noise of annoyance in her throat, head rearing back with pride.

"I was hoping that you'd be a bit less insane, but we can't all have what we want," She answered snidely, following with the bird-equivalent of an indignant sniff.

"Oh hush, you two. I know you're delighted to cross paths again." Kaiamær snickered, not phased in the slightest when she was fixed with twin glares.

"I most certainly am _not_  delighted by the presence of your cucky companion," Radagast told her, scandalized. 

"You have your own strange companions growing in that nest you call hair." She dismissed his defence, removing his hat to show the others the literal nest his favourite birds had made of his hair. She quickly placed it back upon his head at the angry chirping she received, not too keen to be accosted by beaks pecking at her in retribution. "My, it seems that the family has expanded!"

"Well, yes, but you should see the unwelcome abundance of crows these days-" Radagast started to answer teasingly, but Gandalf cleared his throat, bringing his brethren back to the subject at hand.

"What was so important that you had to find me, old friend?" Gandalf asked, looking rather concerned.

"Yes well, we should talk over there. Yes, yes, we should." Radagast stuttered out, all happiness replaced by grim fear. He gave her free shoulder a squeeze before he followed Gandalf away from the others. Kaiamær shrugged, sitting on the edge of a log and reaching into her pockets for a block of wood to start whittling. Astályss seemed content to stay by her side, for she hopped down to snuggle into her hip as she perched on the log next to her.

**⤬⤬⤬⤬⤬**

"Well,  _that_  is one of the strangest things I've ever seen," Bilbo sighed a few moments later, flopping down on the ground in front of them. She stopped her carving to look at the Hobbit.

"Don't tell me you don't have a few slightly batty cousins lying around somewhere," She asked him dubiously, all too familiar with the habits of his kind.

"Well, there  _is_  Lobelia Sackville-Baggins," Bilbo mused, looking contemplatively fond. "You know I caught her trying to steal my finest silverware once! Can't be trusted with valuables, that one."

"What is it with hobbits and their obsession with eating utensils? They should be coveting battleaxes and blades," Dwalin spoke up incredulously from their right. The others, scattered slightly by their own respective activities, stopped to nod firmly in agreement. It was mostly in jest though, as they smiled and winked before turning back to their machinations. At least, all but Thorin. He was staring their way, face displaying his disapproval with vigour. She noticed that he did this every time Bilbo's old habits and culture came up in conversation, fairly certain he resented the creature for the comforts that he had been afforded his whole life. That it had never been suddenly ripped away from him by a dragon. 

"They've always been this way, they value respectability and gardening over the skills of a warrior. In fact, they find fighting rather barbaric," She told them fondly, surreptitiously waving a dismissive hand at Thorin. His scowl deepened, finally huffing and turning from them to brood. 

"So you know of my culture, " Bilbo stated in delighted, even as the others sputtered over their lack of warriors.

"Well, I  _do_  live just north of you, I used to visit rather frequently." She told him good-naturedly, causing him to light up at the news.

"Too frequently," Astályss muttered but was completely ignored.

"Oh, is there anyone I would know?" He asked, leaning in from his excitement.

"I haven't visited in a century or so, I believe. So they may no longer live, but you hobbits keep meticulous records, so let's see..." She thought for a moment. "Well, there was Balduric III, rather stingy with the amount of food he gave out at tea parties..."

"He refused to acknowledge my existence," Astályss in annoyance, pecking Kaiamær's thigh in retribution. Bilbo let out a delighted laugh, seemingly taken with her smaller companion.

"Yes, I've heard of him, he's the great-great-great-great grandfather of Tolman Gawkroger, he makes the most delicious ale. Though, I didn't realize you were a human of the Dunedain. " Bilbo answered, looking pleased with himself.

"Hmm, yes, I forgot to mention that. In any case, there was also Auberge Brockhouse, she was the sweetest thing you'd ever meet, never had a bad bone in her body..." She continued onward, pausing after seeing Bilbo perk up in recognition.

"She was the founder of the first flower shop in The Shire. In fact, I'm fairly certain that her great-great-granddaughter and her husband own it now," Informed her amicably, causing a warmth to grow at her passing acquaintance's success.

 "The last time I visited, I came to know the young and virile Swanahilde Stoor, she taught me everything I know about your people and their 'respectability,'" She finally finished, feeling a bit wistful.

"Swanahilde Stoor? That was my Great-Great-Aunt!" Bilbo cried in surprise and pleasure.

"Ah, that's why your eyes were familiar, then. The last time I saw her she was being courted by that one 'completely unrespectable' Hobbit fellow she never stopped talking about... Brandy something-or-other. I wonder if they ever married," Kaiamær told him just as brightly before she frowned in contemplation.

"Yes, he wanted to go on adventures, if I recall. Wasn't it a big scandal that the most eligible maiden was courting such an un-hobbit-like fellow?" Astályss recounted slowly, black eyes narrowing in thought.

"Bandobras Took, yes. It was quite the story.  They ended up having 7 children, the descendants of which make up the North-Tooks of Long Cleeve," He told her excitedly, grinning from ear to ear. Her heart stuttered for a moment.

" _7 children?_ " She wheezed. Just the thought of giving birth to so many had her stomach twisting in fear. "The poor woman."

"That's an average number of children for a Hobbit, actually," Bilbo informed her with a dismissive wave of his hand. "My Grandmother Adamanta had _12_ children, one of them being my mother."

"Twelve?" She asked, voice much fainter. It sounded like a nightmare to her, having to go through so many births in just the 100 years that Hobbits lived. She wouldn't be able to have  _12 children_  in that amount of time and be _happy_ about it.

"You sound like a couple 'a old hags nattering away while ya knit," Dori told them in annoyance, making her focus her attention back on the others. Every dwarf in their company looked ready to either laugh or cry at their display, depending on the person.

"I am  _not_  a woman, so I would be an old  _geezer_  thank you very much!" Bilbo retorted in fake indignance, before sniffing with distaste. "Besides, I am only  _just_  middle-aged, I've still got 50 years left in me, give or take."

"I agree with Bilbo on this, Dori. If you're going to insult us at least get the ages and names right." She told him in mock annoyance, sharing an amused look with Bilbo. Dori actually looked rather awkward for his perceived error. At his soured face, they burst out in giggles, waving off his concern.

 

"Oh, very funny," Dori grumbled, shuffling away from them in retribution.

"So Bilbo, tell me more of your family tree, I'd much like to know about my old friend's family..." She started back up the conversation once she had calmed herself enough to speak. Bilbo lit up like a forge, launching into a detailed review of his family tree.

Bilbo and Kaiamær kept up their chatter for quite some time, swapping stories and discussing Hobbit culture. It helped to pass the time, and it seemed to bleed the last of the tension Bilbo had been holding onto since the start of their journey. As they talked and laughed, she started to feel kinship forming with this genteel Hobbit, enjoying the wholehearted passion he had for both getting to know her and sharing the ways of his kind. 

The calm of the camp was broken after a period by a howl, cutting off Radagast and Gandalf's hushed conversation. The noise, much closer than last time, could be heard throughout the forest, sending a chill down Kaiamær's spine. The others seemed to break themselves away from their respective activities, uneasiness settling over them all. Bilbo looked absolutely terrified, turning with wide eyes to look at the one person he knew would not laugh at him: his masked companion.

"What was that?" Bilbo squeaked out, shaking where he stood.

"Not a wolf, that is for certain." She answered, drawing her sword just in case. 

"Kai...?" Astályss asked her a silent question, looking uneasy at the frightening atmosphere.

"Go, follow from the sky, but make sure that you aren't spotted, you know what they'll do if you are." She told her quietly, petting her head in farewell. Astályss nodded gratefully before she flew off, disappearing into the trees. 

Suddenly a Warg appeared from higher ground, growling menacingly. The others didn't have time to draw their weapons, trapped under it when the beast attacked. Thorin, the one closest to the others, drew his sword and swiftly killed it, saving his friends from a most unfortunate fate. The small victory was short-lived, however, as he was quickly attacked by another Warg from behind. Kíli used his bow to shoot the second Warg, causing it to stumble. Though, it was long enough for Dwalin to swing his axe and kill the thing.

"Warg-Scouts! Which means an Orc pack is not far behind," Thorin announced, anger and determination dominating his gaze.  Bilbo mouthed the words, standing frozen in fear. She pulled the small creature behind her, scanning the surrounding foliage in suspicion.

"Who beyond your kin did you tell?" Gandalf asked Thorin harshly, making his way back to the group.

"No one," Thorin answered firmly, ready to spring into action at any moment. Gandalf did not look as though he believed this.

"Who did you tell??" Gandalf repeated venomously, stepping into the Dwarf King's face.

"No one, I swear it," Thorin told him curtly, straightening himself to his full height, not to be intimidated. "What in Durin's name is going on!?"

"They're hunting us." was Kaiamær's soft reply, causing the others to stiffen at the realization. "We must leave, and quickly."

"We can't go far! We have no ponies; they bolted," Ori pointed out, looking lost. The others stood in dismay, looking as though they were headed for the gallows. She started to roll up her sleeves, nodding at Gandalf to let him know that she was ready if her skills were needed.

"I'll draw them off," Radagast announced decisively, stopping her movements with the sentence, making his way back to his sled. She felt as though something oily and slick had slid down her spine, fear and dread spreading within her. She stopped him from moving forward with a hand on his elbow, knuckles white in desperation.

"Radagast, don't," Kaiamær pleaded, but he just gave her a grim smile, stopping to kiss the top of her head before gently shaking out of her grip.

"These are Gundabad Wargs; they will outrun you," Gandalf warned him sorrowfully, watching the exchange with keen eyes.

 "These are Rhosgobel Rabbits; I'd like to see them try." Radagast retorted, looking simultaneously amused and offended. She wondered what it was with Wizards that most of them seemed to be in a perpetual state of humour.

"Please be careful, my friend. I couldn't bear to lose you," Kaiamær stepped forward to murmur desperately. He waved her off with one of his signature maniacal grins.

"My dear Kai, I am not so easily lost," He told her warmly, before getting his rabbits into position. "Now RUN!"

So they ran.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it Good? Is it terrible? Do you want more? Let me know!


	7. The Chase and Subsequent Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the company runs for their lives, Kaiamær is faced with old wounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so another chapter. I'm pretty satisfied with how things are going, but what do you guys think? I'm always open for suggestions!

As Radagast set off, making noise and being generally obnoxious, they took the window of opportunity and took off through the forest. It was simple to weave between their wooded covering, staying out of sight of those who would attack them. At least, that was the case until they broke through the treeline. They had come upon a large set of plains, rolling hills scattered with rocky outcroppings.

By the loud thundering of footsteps, she could tell that the pack of Wargs and Orcs were quite large. If they were spotted, there would be little chance of survival. By the looks of the others, they too had come to this conclusion. Still, each and every member of the company had the face of a soldier who was prepared to go down fighting.

Thorin motioned them forward, and they began to make their way across this new terrain. They made it only a short way before they were noticed, and then it was open season upon the company. Their multitudes of enemies immediately turned from Radagast, setting their sights upon their true targets. 

As they began running in earnest, she flipped the edges of her cloak behind her shoulders, leaving her front much more mobile as she swung her sword. Despite it being a very long time since her last true battle, she easily slipped back into old habits, swinging and dodging with little effort. From the glances she was getting, the others hadn't noticed her true abilities when they fought the Trolls. She was happy to give them a good show, she supposed.

When there were no beasts in Melee range, she would seamlessly switch to her bow, shooting the enemies of those who seemed to be struggling with the sheer number of attackers. This usually meant Bilbo and Ori, but she wasn't one to judge them for their lack of experience. She silently made a vow to keep the two innocents safe from these beasts. It caused her to work harder with her bow, significantly thinning the herd of Orcs and Wargs.

At her show of bowmanship, Kíli seemed to step up his game, most likely not wanting to be upstaged at his best craft. It seemed to become something of a friendly competition, the both of them pulling their best tricks to kill the most enemies. With the two of them working in perfect tandem, they were able to clear the path for a time, helping to avoid injury of the less battle-inclined.

Still, no matter how many they killed, the numbers of Orcs and Wargs seemed to be multiplying. The others started to slow in their reactions, not enough to kill them but enough for her to notice. She had never had this happen to her, but she remembered seeing it in many who she had fought with: Battle-exhaustion. She knew then that if they didn't escape soon she would be forced to use her gifts, and she wasn't sure how well she could control it after so many years of not using it.

It was a relief when Gandalf found a rock outcropping with a hole that led to a subterranean cave for them to hide within. He took to the front of the group, leading them to safety and killing enemies of his own. Finally, when they were close enough, the bulk of the company sprinted to safety. Many pushed at the others, forcing those who were "weaker" than the rest to slide down first. 

She made to follow them but noticed that Kíli wasn't budging, staying in the open to cover the others' escape. She sighed in exasperation before she raised her bow once more. It was easy to fall into a sort of dance with each other, helping to shield the others, and each other, from their growing threat.

Finally, Thorin called for them, motioning for them to run to the entrance of the cave. Kíli seemed reluctant to go, knowing that if the cave was a dead end, then the others would be trapped. She hooked an arm around his elbow, dragging him backward while she continued to fire as many arrows as she could. She had lived for thousands of years, a full life filled with sorrow and happiness. She would be damned if she let one who hadn't even reached adulthood die on her watch. Though the princeling looked slightly affronted by her manhandling, he didn't struggle, starting to follow her lead.

As soon as they had made it to the entrance and he had slipped down, she followed. By the look on Thorin's face, she had known immediately that he would not follow until everyone else in his company was safe. She admired him for that, even if it could end up being the death of him one day. 

It was when he had joined them, that they waited with apprehension. She reloaded her bow, silently cursing when she realized that she was running low on arrows. With the sheer noise of their thundering footsteps, she knew that she would not be able to kill enough of their opposition to make a true difference without using her abilities. She waited, bow still taught, gathering her energy reserves for when she would inevitably be forced to use her gifts to avoid their slaughter.

The bloodbath never came, however, for a loud and gloriously familiar horn could be heard. She immediately slumped her shoulders in relief, letting her built energy disperse in a small sigh. The sound of advancement ceased, their enemies now sounding panicked rather than victorious. The quiet whistles of arrows and the pained squeals of dying beasts filled the air, their enemies now seeming desperate to retreat. It wasn't until a dead Orc fell down into their hiding spot that the others discovered the truth of their rescue.

"Elves," Thorin spat as he looked at the arrow embedded in the Orc's neck. He sent a glare Gandalf's way, knowing exactly what he had done. It looked as though he was going to say more, but Kaiamær spoke up.

"We have no time for further discussion. We either leave the way we came or follow the path farther into the cave." She spoke just loud enough to be heard. She had never been one for raising her voice, too prone to amicable discussions rather than shouting her opinions. 

She was relieved to see that Thorin had heard her, his expression clearing as he seemed to remember the situation once more. She could see a visible shift in emotions, anger quickly replaced by the weary calculation of a leader looking for the best way forward. He still sent Gandalf a dark look, expression speaking volumes of his displeasure, before he started barking orders.

At Thorin's behest, Dwalin began to lead them further into the cave, chosen for his steadfast sense of direction when underground. It was much better than Thorin's sense of direction, she decided, as he slowly but surely led them through the tunnels in the quickest route out. Eventually, the all-consuming dark of the underground was replaced by a narrow ravine, allowing the sunlight to shine through the small gap that it was afforded. It was a tight fit for her, but she was able to make it through by squeezing and contorting herself in ways that she had never known was possible. She didn't even want to look behind her to check on Gandalf's progress, she would feel too much sympathy for the old codger who'd gotten her into this mess.

At the end of the ravine was a thin stream, removing any signs of stress she previously had. It felt like home to her, any time that there were rivers or lakes in her vicinity. She could feel that the small trickle of water was leading them to a much larger body of water, filling her with anticipation and dread all at once. She recognized these waters, however distant they were in her memory. Her steps became more hesitant as they drew closer to the exit, knowing exactly what she would be met with when she could see past the rock walls.

Sure enough, when her sight was free of sedimentary layers, the beautiful stream lead their way to a cliff with a large valley below it. Out past them, they could see a most magnificent city, held atop the edge of a massive waterfall by long spindled pillars. The buildings were made of delicately carved white stone, almost sparkling in the setting sun. She had to stop for a moment and catch her breath, for she had not seen the beauty of this settlement in at least a thousand years.

"The Valley of Imraldis. In the Common Tongue, it's known by another name," Gandalf spoke up, only to be cut off by a reverent Bilbo.

"Rivendell," Bilbo breathed. She felt a swell of affection and regret at the look of the beautiful city she had once known so well.

"Here lies the last Homely House East of the Sea," Gandalf continued, not bothered by Bilbo's interruption in the slightest.

"Gandalf," She murmured to him, taking him aside. "I should not be here. I am most unwelcome."

"Don't worry, dear Kai, Elrond is a forgiving Elf. He will see reason," Was Gandalf's reply.

"You don't understand, I was  _banished_ ," She emphasized, looking at him as though he had grown two heads.

"Yes, I know this, Kai," He told her just as seriously, the mask of humour completely gone. "I also know that you were once a beloved friend and diplomat for these people, Elrond spoke very highly of you once. He will welcome you once again."

"We shall see," She told him dubiously, letting out a low whistle to call for the one person who could comfort her:  Astályss. Gandalf opened his mouth to answer.  He was quickly stopped by a frantic bird barrelling into Kaiamær's chest. She quickly caught her, cuddling her friend to her chest in comfort.

"Kai, I saw you disappear down that hole, and I tried to follow, but the Elves-" Astályss rambled, sounding so scared for her.

"I know, friend. There was nothing you could have done." She told her gently, running her hands through her feathers soothingly. 

"Is that what I think it is?"  Astályss asked after a moment, seeming to finally notice their surroundings.

"Yes, we will be heading for Imladris," She told her with a sigh, grip tightening when she felt the small body in her arms stiffen.

"But what about the..." The tiny creature started, but trailed off, eyeing the others. It seemed they had the full attention of their company once more.

"Apparently Gandalf doesn't think it's an issue," Kaiamær informed her with a small huff. It seemed that Astályss was going to make another comment, but was cut off by a livid Thorin stomping up to Gandalf.

"This was your plan all along, to seek refuge with our enemy." Thorin hissed, expression riddled with betrayal.

"You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield. The only ill-will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself." The old Wizard scolded him, looking more frustrated by the minute.

"You think the Elves will give our quest their blessing? They will try to stop us." Thorin pointed out in outrage.

"Of course they will. But we have questions that need to be answered." Gandalf countered, thumping his staff upon the ground in frustration.

Thorin and Gandalf quickly found themselves in a silent staring contest, the air crackling with tension. The other Dwarves didn't seem phased by this, speaking of experience with Thorin's mood. Still, poor Bilbo looked ready to flee at the heavy atmosphere, starting to inch behind her in an effort to get away.  Astályss, in a rare bid of kindness, hopped upon his shoulder, gently butting her head against his cheek as a distraction. He stared with wide eyes, delightedly reverent that a blessed creature such as this would grace him with her presence.

Kaiamær waited with bated breath, knowing that this decision would be a crucial one for the course of this quest. If he refused, they would have to blindly search for the door, unsure of when or where they would need to be. Thorin seemed to realize this, for he looked away first. Finally, Thorin nodded with great reluctance, declaring that yes, they would continue onward into the city she used to know so well.

**⤬⤬⤬⤬⤬  
**

It was in this moment that Kaiamær was strongly regretting making the decision to join this quest. She always knew there would be a time when she wished she hadn't come along, she just hadn't thought it would be so soon. Just like everything else during this journey, the moment started out in innocence. Gandalf was greeted by one of the higher officials, and then Elrond had come back from his scouting mission. This was not the problem, however. The problem was his guards.

It had been fine one moment, Elrond had given Gandalf a warm greeting (by his standards at least), and then they had chatted about the Orcs near the borders. Of course, when the time came for Thorin to speak, he gave thinly veiled insults while Elrond did nothing but raise his eyebrow and reply amicably. Elrond was a perfect host, bearing no ill will for the Dwarves in his proverbial front yard. No, it was when one of his men noticed her, recognized her.

" _The Faceless Siren!"_ Shouted the elf in Sindarin, causing the others to draw their swords. This made the Dwarves to redraw their own weapons, not understanding what was going on in the least. She glanced down at herself, realizing that she had not flipped the edges of her cloak back over her shoulders, leaving the markings of her people engraved on the metal of her armour exposed. Kaiamær decided it would be best to step forward so as not to subject them to her welcoming.

As soon as she did, she had four swords aimed at her heart. One such blade pressed against her throat, drawing blood from where it pricked her skin. Astályss, who had reluctantly hidden underneath her cloak, suddenly sprung forward, clawing at the Guard whose sword would dare hurt her friend. He was forced to take a step back with a flailing cry of pain. She had cut into his face deeply, and by her self-satisfied air, she wasn't remorseful in the least.

"If sh-he gets one cut from you, I will set the whole of the White Crows of Mirkwood upon you and your soldiers!" She cried,  wings flaring dramatically before she landed proudly upon her friend's shoulder. Elrond stared at the bird for a moment longer before he turned to the reason for the commotion.

"Malifea _,_ _you know you are no longer welcome here,"_  Elrond spoke, almost gently to her. Her eyes stung, memories of the many times she had stayed here running through her mind. She had missed this place, but Elrond would not go against the wishes of the Valar. He would cast her out, even if he didn't want to.

"What is going on?" Thorin muttered, only to be met with shrugs by the others.

"Apologies, my friend. I was the one who asked him to follow us into the city. He is our travelling companion, I would not leave him out in the cold." Gandalf spoke up, using his 'I am an elderly man, you wouldn't question me would you?' routine. Elrond seemed to be well acquainted with this tactic, for he only raised an infamous eyebrow.

" _Him?"_  He repeated in Sindarin, looking thoroughly confused. This was when she had had enough. She rose to her full height, paying no mind to the swords ready to kill her at any moment.

" _Apologies, Lord Elrond. I only come at the request of my friends. If I am so unwelcomed, I would not mind sleeping out in the forests this night."_  She spoke up in the Elvish tongue. She heard the others behind her grumble, muttering about their distaste for the language of 'tree-shaggers.' Her lips turned up in a smile, for even though they were in danger, the Dwarves seemed to  _always_  have time for insults towards the Elven race.

"Kai, why should you have to deal with-"  Astályss, only to be silenced by two fingers closing around her beak gently. She nipped at them for the insult but remained otherwise quiet once more.

" _You conceal your gender with friends?"_  He asked her wryly, lips almost quirking into a smile. Almost.

" _Most do not know of me, for they would not be pleased. I only seek redemption on this journey, I am no threat to you,"_ She responded, bowing her head in the most respectful nature she could manage while under multiple blades. She used to know this man, even perhaps call him a friend. But no elf would be associated with a cursed one, so their interactions were reduced to formalities.

"Very well, you may stay this once," Elrond announced giving the signal for his guards to pull back, much to the outraged faces of his subjects. Gandalf looked distinctly relieved, causing her to narrow her eyes at him in suspicion.

Unaware of her perch's turmoil, Astályss puffed out her chest in triumph, glaring darkly at the Gaurd whose face was bleeding deeply for his insult to her friend. At her attention, the Elf seemed to flinch back slightly, turning his face away in protection. Kaiamær wasn't paying much attention to him, however, as the Dwarves behind her were muttering and tugging at the edge of her cloak in question. She waved them off once more, motioning that she would tell them all about it later.

"However, I must have an oath that you not use your gifts while in this city." Elrond finished decisively, causing some of his subjects to relax slightly. If she broke this oath, the punishment would be severe, and since she was immortal, the punishment would be a  _very_  long one.

"You have it," She told him simply, quieting the new round of questions from the Dwarves with a wave of her hand. Reluctantly, the blades were withdrawn from her throat, leaving sour faces among most of the Elves before her.

" _Light the fires, bring forth the wine. We must feed our guests_."Elrond ordered, causing the Dwarves to stir once more. They raised their blades, looking ready to strike at any moment.

"What is he saying? Does he offer us insult?" Gloín asked aggressively, shaking his weapon in the air.

"No, Master Gloín, he's offering you food," Gandalf answered in exasperation. The others whispered amongst themselves, determining the authenticity of the statement. She let out a put-upon sigh, turning to look at the old Wizard. He just closed his eyes in resignation, most likely wanting to mutter about the stubbornness of dwarves.

"Ah well, in that case, lead on," Gloin answered sheepishly. And so began their stay in Rivendell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it good? Is it terrible? Do you want more? Let me know!


	8. Reminiscence and Readings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company spends time in Rivendell and Kaiamær is faced with those from her past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I can't believe we're already 8 chapters in! Never before have I had the confidence, or the drive, to write something that is 'novel' length, and the kudos etc... help me want to keep sharing more.
> 
> Note: Heart-flowers are completely made up and aren't actually canon. Honestly, though, it's an extremely believable fib with how Hobbits cherish their gardening so much. It actually took me a while to find the flower that I wanted to represent her with, and I didn't know whether I should give her a hobbit-ish name or a flower. In the end, it seemed a bit excessive, so I just gave her a flower to describe her personality.
> 
> Also, it took me FOREVER to come up with a Khuzdul name. You have no idea how long every single word in the language is, and I wasn't going to have a 4 syllable name for a 1-2 syllable named species. I had to dig deep within the depths of obscure Khuzdul texts and fandom chat rooms to find suitable prefixes and suffixes to mash together, and I'm quite proud of how it turned out.
> 
> Be sure to let me know how you feel about the story so far, and don't be shy to give suggestions or comments!

To the Dwarves, dinner was a  brutal affair, leaving their stomachs unsatisfied and their anger skyrocketing. They hated that there was no meat, they found soft Elven music distasteful, and, most importantly, no one would stop staring. To Kaiamær, however, it was glorious. The food was delicious and full of flavor, the calming and upbeat notes coming from a harp creating a rather good background music, and the staring... Well, she had become used to it 3,063 years she had come to deal with this  _problem_.

The others were distinctly uncomfortable with all the attention, but she paid it no mind. Never once did she bristle at the whispers from Elves she once knew, scornful glares from friends turned acquaintances. The others eventually seemed to notice that the main subject of discussion, despite most speaking in Sindarin, was  _her_  rather than the Dwarves themselves. Most of the others took it as the reprieve that it was, enjoying being out of the spotlight, just how they liked it. Thorin, however, hadn't stopped giving her this calculated look, seemingly trying to piece together her past. She let out a small huff of amusement, he could always try but she doubted the Elves would tell him anything. Bilbo, who sat next to her, was unsurprisingly bothered by the rude stares, sending disapproving glares of his own. Bless Bilbo and his Hobbit sensibilities.

"Why are so many of them staring at you? It's quite rude." Bilbo sniffed, glaring at yet another to send her a cold glance. She swallowed her bite in lieu of an answer, rather hesitant to give him the information.

"Because I am not normally welcomed here." She told him reluctantly, the food becoming a lump in her throat.

"B-but you're the kindest person I know!" Bilbo blurted out, causing Kaiamær to giggle fondly. "Ehem, I just mean that you have been nothing but polite and unobtrusive, despite the fact that one of the guards cut your neck..."

"Oh, don't worry, it was a tiny scratch and I had given them quite the scare by being here. Besides, Astályss  made sure to correct his actions." She told him with a pat on his shoulder, wincing slightly at how deeply her friend's claws had dug into the man. She had apologized before dinner, and he had nodded vehemently, but she was fairly certain he was just terrified of a repeat. Thankfully, due to Elven medicine, he wouldn't scar, but she still felt bad about it. That was why her friend had been banished to the granary with strict instructions  _not_ to do anything reckless.

"What I want to know is what you have done to be unwelcome in a place such as this," Thorin spoke up, causing Elrond's head to snap up. He gave a minute shake of his head, and she knew she had to improvise.

"Because I made a mistake: I broke the rules." She said simply, not missing Thorin's expression souring at the unsatisfying answer. The hearing of a harp chord snapping drew their attention and filled Kaiamær with dread. She had known this elf.

" _You never_ _ **just**_ _broke the rules, you backwater mer."_ One of girl hissed, before seeming to remember herself, and scurrying away.

" _Glírheden, you wound me,_ " She sighed out in sorrow, letting her eyes slip closed in pain.

"What did she just say?" Thorin asked Gandalf, who only gave him a grim expression.

"Nothing that needs repeating," Gandalf told him gently, silently willing him to let it go. Luckily, he did.

"Apologies, _Malifea,_  I shall have her reprimanded," Elrond Spoke, giving her a nod of acknowledgement.

"There is no need, I was her friend and it hurt her when I did not heed her warnings. I wish her no ill will," She told him gently, hoping he would leave the Elf-maid alone.

"Why does he keep calling you Mah-Lee-Fee-ah," Bilbo asked her, sounding out the pronunciation and slaughtering the accent. She let out a small laugh, shaking her head at his silly wording.

"It is  _Malifea,_ "She corrected him with emphasis after she'd calmed herself. "It means Caring Spirit. Just as Gandalf goes by  _Mithrandir_ , or Wanderer."

"I truly buggered up the pronunciation on that, my apologies," Bilbo told her, face flushing in embarrassment.

"Do not worry, my friend, when I first came here and began to learn Sindarin, every Elf in the vicinity would cringe for how terribly I butchered their speech," She told him with a giggle. He gave her a grateful smile, looking a tad less like he had overcooked her food, a major insult by Hobbitish standards.

"Do not remind me, _Malifea_ ," Elrond told her with a long-suffering sigh. "You were by far the worst beginner we have ever had grace our halls."

"Why don't they just call you by your given name?" Balin asked contemplatively, always the scholar, it seemed. He was sipping on the fine wine they were given, seemingly It the only thing the Dwarves enjoyed out of the vast spread set before them.

"To be given an Elven name is a great sign of respect, Master Balin. One that the both of us take pride in," Gandalf spoke up, staring him down until he nodded. Thorin, Bilbo, and Balin all looked even more confused. Most likely because she was cast out, but they still used her respected name. The main reason Elrond used this, she knew, was so that she could keep her orientation from them.  He also wanted her to find her redemption, so that they may speak once more. It was the only way to regain her lost friends if only the Valar had been more specific about what that redemption  _was..._

"It is the same in Dwarven culture when there is one of a different race or culture that they see as a true friend, they give them their own name." She mused, remembering her own awkward naming. Her Dwarf friend had blurted out Khuzdul and then told her that that would be her Dwarvish name. It was abrupt, slightly unsociable, and endearing. Just like him.

"Were you given a Dwarvish name then?" Balin asked with interest.

"Yes **, Helar,** but it was given to me only after my sword had been made, so that is why it is not engraved on the blade." She told them, which was true. Luckily, her name had been made gender-neutral. It was something she was going to send a prayer of thanks to her fallen friends about.

"What does that mean?" Bilbo asked curiously.

"Holy Guardian," Thorin translated, giving her a sideways glance. "It sounds familiar, though I am uncertain of where I have seen or heard it..."

"Mm, I doubt it was spoken to you aloud, it was a long time ago, and the ones who gave it to me were very obscure," She told him, a half-truth. It was at least a thousand years ago, perhaps longer, but they were most definitely  _not_  an obscure family.

"And did you go through any Hobbitish naming rituals?" Bilbo asked with great interest, looking at her hopefully.

"Well, I was never given a Hobbit name, as everyone liked my original name. I  _did_  end up, after a great amount of convincing, going through my heart-flower being decided. It was Your great-great Aunt who named it, actually," She remembered, glancing at Bilbo when she brought up his family. She remembered that day vividly, the day Swanahilde had seen her face under the hood. She had forced Kaiamær to tell her everything, not taking no for an answer. When she had finished with her story, Swanahilde had decided that she would initiate the old tradition of a non-Hobbit heart-flower naming ceremony. She had honoured her with her very own token flower, showing all in The Shire that she was essentially family to the young Hobbit lass.

"Heart-flower?" Thorin grunted out the question, grudgingly interested in the conversation at hand.

"Well, in Hobbit culture, your heart-flower is the flower that guides you. It's the essence of who you are, your heart. It's common to name a Hobbitling after a flower, and then later have their heart-flower be named as the same flower they were named after," She told them helpfully.

"And your heart-flower?" Balin asked with great interest, elbows leaning on the table.

"The Protea King flower," She told them bluntly, patting Bilbo's back when he choked on his sip of wine, mind most likely overheating at the 'wildly inappropriate' question.

"The Protea King: Flower of courage, strength, transformation, and change," Bilbo explained to the others after he had recovered, face flushed from lack of oxygen. He turned back to her in confusion. "But I thought you said you only passed through The Shire briefly in your travels. A Hobbit would not do this for you unless you were seen as kin..."

"It was by far my longest stay there, I had only planned to visit for 3 days, but your great-great-Aunt, just a child at the time, was a  _very_  clever Hobbit. She was always thinking of things that I just  _had_ to learn about her kind." She told him with a laugh. "Six months she convinced me to stay, but I was someone who needed to travel at the time, and I had eventually left to return to it. I visited very frequently for quite a while, always making sure to stop by to say hello. Eventually, I was asked on a quest, and I ended up travelling for 30 years. By the time I visited again, she had died of old age."

All who had heard her short tale stayed silent for a moment, mood dampening slightly. Elrond nodded in saddened understanding, for he was immortal just as she was, and he had to deal with far too many deaths of friends who lived for only a blink of time in his eyes. The Dwarves were also watching her contemplatively, most likely wondering just  _how_  old she really was. The answer was  _very_  old.

"So why do halflings name their own after flowers?" Elrond asked with an inquisitive eyebrow, an obvious subject change.

"Well, we're a gentle folk who take great pride in our ability to grow things under even the most barren conditions," Bilbo explained amicably, despite the term Elrond used to describe his kind. "Because we are a species so highly attuned to gardening and the grown of all plants, many of our flowers have been given many different meanings."

"So they just... pick a flower and craft a name from it?" Thorin asked, looking reluctantly intrigued.

"They do not _just_  pick a flower that suits their fancy. They think of the history of the flower, the habits of it, and then the meaning behind it. Hobbits wait a week after birth to name their child so that they can get a grasp of their personality." Kaiamær told him patiently.

"The naming of a fauntling is a very special occasion, something the child's parents take very seriously. To ensure the best name they can even use two or three different flower breeds to help create the perfect name for the child." Bilbo continued openly, happy to not be interrupted every five seconds by complaints of boredom from any of the dwarves.

"And what are you named after then, Bilbo?" Balin asked kindly, noticing the way the small creature in front of them seemed to glow at the positive attention he was receiving. He blushed and stuttered, unable to tell them.

"I'd assume the Bellflower, and perhaps even the Bluebell, correct?" She asked him, to which he nodded gratefully. "The Bellflower symbolizes, oh what was it? Ah yes,  Unchanging Love, Honesty, and Obedience, while the Bluebell is tied to humility and constancy."

"Apologies, it's just that it is rather, er,  straightforward to ask someone that outright," Bilbo finally managed, his face seeming on the verge of steaming by how red it was.

"And asking about heart-flowers?" Gandalf asked with a twinkle in his eye.

"It's downright scandalous," Bilbo squeaked, face pale from such open talk of such a secretive topic.

"Hobbits and their delicate sensibilities..." Balin muttered, causing those at the table to get into an intellectual debate about whether or not it was Hobbits who were too proper, or if it was other cultures that were too lax. There was no clear winner, and eventually, the conversation turned to the explanations of each of the names of those at the table, and how their culture fit into it. As their merriment continued, Kaiamær started to relax, not realizing that she had been tense since coming here for fear of ridicule. But here, with a few of the Dwarves, a Hobbit, a Wizard, and an Elf-lord, she found herself the most at ease that she'd been in 50 years.

**⤬⤬⤬⤬⤬**

Despite the good food and titillating conversation, there was an inevitable confrontation just waiting for a moment to present itself. Elrond's persistent all-knowing gaze made sure that they knew he hadn't forgotten the mysterious circumstances surrounding their arrival. Thorin's ever-present glare made sure that they knew he was very reluctant to even  _be_ there. Finally, things came to a head outside of the public eye, in the semi-darkness of a wide cavern.

 It was later that night, after the festivities had died down, that Elrond had invited them for a private chat. Despite Elrond only inviting Thorin, Gandalf, and whoever Thorin thought a good advisor would be, Gandalf had roped her and poor Bilbo into coming along as well. Apparently, Gandalf thought they would be rather ample mediators, what with her history with both species, and Bilbo's gentle nature. He thought wrong. He had made the unfortunate mistake of sorely underestimated the stubbornness of one particular Dwarf King.

What was supposed to be a casual exchange quickly morphed into a stand-off between Dwarf and Elf. Thorin couldn't let go of his stubborn pride, and Elrond didn't know how to get rid of his air of superiority. It made for a rather stilted discussion, filled with grunts, growls, raised eyebrows, and loud sighs of exasperation. For a few moments, the only sound filling the space was the gentle trickle of a stream, a rather terrible background noise to the glaring contest that was taking place. Technically, Elrond wasn't glaring back, but his hard stare still sent chills up her spine in sheer terror. Thorin didn't make her feel much better, his expression indicating that he was mentally cutting Elrond to pieces... slowly. She sighed, looking up at the ceiling of the cave pleadingly. May Eru have mercy on her weary soul, and may he perhaps send a sign to Thorin that he was being an _utter child_  about this.

"Our business is no concern of elves." Thorin bit out petulantly, not for the first time that night. Kaiamær let out a put-upon sigh, dropping her masked face into her waiting palm.

"For goodness sake, Thorin, show him the map!" Gandalf told him in annoyance, for he had the map with him, but he was not opening it.

"It is the legacy of my people; it is mine to protect, as are its secrets." He announced, posturing in the way only Kings could.

"Save me from the stubbornness of Dwarves!" Gandalf muttered exasperatedly, continuing unintelligibly to himself.

"Do not let your pride ruin your objective. You have a legacy that you  _cannot read_ , and an ally standing in front of you willing to translate,  _despite_  not knowing the purpose of your scroll or its contents," Kaiamær murmured imploringly to him, trying to make him see sense. She wasn't holding her breath for new results.

It was her turn to be under the scrutiny of his gaze, seemingly unappreciative of her input. Still, She stood her ground, staring back at him with the same intensity. He could not see her eyes, but he was sure to feel the intense disapproval she was radiating. Eventually, after a silent battle of wills, he seemed to see sense, reluctantly handing over the map. Balin protested vehemently, but the Dwarf King had already made up his mind.

"Erebor. What is your interest in this map?" Elrond determined with one glance, his ever-present judging eyebrow lifting in question. She was fairly certain he already knew but was humouring Gandalf for the sake of Thorin and his pride.

"It's mainly academic. As you know, this sort of artefact sometimes contains hidden text. You still read Ancient Dwarvish, do you not?" Gandalf quickly explained, forcing Thorin to keep silent.

" _Moon Runes_ ," Elrond muttered, moving farther into the moonlight. Gandalf translated for those who did not speak Sindarin, tacking on a conspirational "An easy thing to miss."

"Well, in this case, that is true; moon runes can only be read by the light of a moon of the same shape and season as the day on which they were written." Elrond murmured, frowning at the parchment in front of him.

"Can you read them?" Thorin begrudgingly asked.

Luckily, he could. He walked forward to the edge of the cliff in the massive cave where they stood. There was a crystal that served as both a pedestal and a conduit for the light just at the edge, the perfect place to put a map. He placed the aged parchment onto the rock, waiting as new words formed in glowing blue upon the map. Thorin, Balin, and Bilbo all gasped, leaning in to watch the words form. This was nothing new to her or Gandalf, for they had both been alive for a rather long time.

"Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole." Elrond translated, looking rather annoyed at his lack of knowledge to its significance.

"Durin's Day?" Bilbo repeated in confusion.

"It is the start of the dwarves' new year when the last moon of autumn and the first sun of winter appear in the sky together," Gandalf explained patiently.

"Durin' s day is fast approaching. Summer will soon be over." Kaiamær spoke up, brow burrowing under her mask. They still had 4 months to get to the mountain, but travelling by foot meant that they would take twice as long. Thorin's expression darkened, obviously displeased by their deadline.

"We still have time." Balin soothed, trying to keep Thorin from getting upset.

"Time for what?" Bilbo piped up once more.

"To find the entrance," Thorin answered distractedly, his scowl deepening.

"We have to be standing at exactly the right spot at exactly the right time. Then, and only then, can the door be opened." Balin elaborated, earning a smile from the grateful little Hobbit.

"So then your purpose is to enter the Mountain," Elrond stated flatly, causing the others to look his way.

"What of it?" Thorin asked bitingly.

"There are some who would not deem it wise." Was his only response. At this, Thorin snatched back his map, rolling it up and securing it into one of his innermost pockets. Elrond, for his part, seemed wholly unaffected by his display of childishness.

"Who would you mean, my friend?" Gandalf inquired gently, gaining the Elf Lord's attention.

"You are not the only guardian to stand watch over Middle Earth." He told him simply, before walking away with only the sound of his robes rustling to mark his departure.

"He is right, you know," Kaia told him sadly, pointing to her masked face. "It is something I can personally attest to."

"Well, there is nothing we can do about that tonight. Why don't we all get some well-deserved rest, hmm?" Gandalf's cheer seemed slightly forced this time, but no one was willing to point it out. Once they were all in agreement, they headed toward their guest quarters. If the silence was slightly heavier than usual, well, no one need make comment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone catch that obscure timeline reference to her age? I did a lot of math for that to add up correctly. ;)


	9. Depictions and Departures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company learns more of Kaiamær and Bilbo gains more respect for Elrond and Rivendell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so here's another chapter, and another piece of the puzzle. I'm so sorry about the length, it's atrociously long, but there was a lot I needed to say. Forgive me and my need for grandiose explanations.
> 
> Note: Some of Kaiamær's musings in the first part are entirely intentional, I promise. I'm not being vague just for the sake of it!
> 
> Also: Canvas shirts are the looser shirts of olden times, you know the ones that come with just about any medieval costume. Doublet vests are... something that is easier to see than to explain. If you don't know what they are, a quick google image search and you'll get the idea. 
> 
> Again if you guys have any questions, comments, or concerns, I am completely open to them.
> 
> Enjoy!

Bathing in warm water was almost a novel feeling after going without for so long. Kaiamær had given up many a comfort in her long journies across Middle Earth, and one on the ones she had missed the most was a warm bath. Though any water felt like home to her as such was her species, she still preferred the heat that would seep into her long-frozen limbs. The soaps and incense provided were even her personal favorites. It was amazing to sit back, let the water almost instantly heal any aches and pains, and bask in the scent of vanilla and berries.

What had been an even greater wonder was to finally be able to remove her mask. It had been one of the hardest parts about this quest so far, the sneaking around and waking at odd hours to bathe, or to even  _change clothes._  It was an exhausting affair, pretending to be this magic-less, averagely skilled (compared to her, at least), human man. She hated lying to the company, found the deception distasteful, even if she knew it was necessary. She'd spent collective centuries with Dwarves, she knew of the importance they placed on Dwarrowdams. She was also keenly aware of the taboo of bringing a woman along on any quest, no matter how little of importance it was.

The means of her tagging along were certainly trying, but she found herself almost... _glad_  she had come along at the strange Wizard's request. It had been so many years since she had let herself feel alive, years since she had allowed herself true companionship, even longer since she had been part of something so noble. Although her solitary existence had been self-induced for the most part, she still missed these things. Her chest ached for time long past, when she had parents, siblings, aunts, a whole village to keep her company. Of course, she had Astályss whether she liked it or not, and she was a great friend and companion. Still, her feathery friend had a family that she would fly back to frequently because she still _could_.

She shook herself, finishing her bath and stepping out to wrap herself in the soft towels they had provided. she took a moment to examine her arms for marks, but, surprisingly, there were none. She supposed it made sense, she hadn't used enough magic for the curse to set in. She was grateful for small mercies. She was unsure whether or not the Dwarves would recognize the etchings if she were to show, but she was glad that she wouldn't have to risk it. She sighed, stepping up to the vanity, where the elves had set out new clothing for her.

She ran her hands over the soft fabric, noticing that the garments were much more light-weight than her original clothing. With a grateful smile that no one could see, she dried herself off and began to dress. They had given her a set of off-white canvas shirts, a dark blue silken doublet vest, and multiple pairs of fitted black archer's trousers to wear under her armor. The vest was held closed by four small silver clasps with ornate designs and a thick silver buckle at the waist. She felt quite fancy as her previous clothing had been commoner-quality, colored in different shades of plain brown. The trousers, to her utter delight, also had many hidden folds and pockets to conceal weapons and supplies, just the way she liked it. She had a sneaking suspicion that Elrond remembered her habits, even after all these years.

For armor, she was given black leather bracers, her regular flattened breast plate - albeit polished -, shoulder pauldrons, and elbow couters. She chastised herself for not thinking of leather bracers sooner, they were much more flexible than her metal ones, and gave more protection to her hands, what with how they rose past her wrists with a thumb hole to allow for complete movement. She was infinitely grateful that they had not given her more armor than she had previously come in with. She never wore more than torso armor with shoulder, elbow, and knee guards as any more armor would restrict her graceful and lightning quick style of fighting. 

From there it was easy to lace her boots and put away her weapons, smiling again at the plethora of new hiding places she now had. She packed food in some places, medicine in others... Anything she felt was useful for the rest of the quest. It was when she had re-braided the front of her hair that she paused. She was hesitant to don cloak and mask once more. She had no idea when the next time she could take them off would be, and it was a burden to keep herself hidden for this long. At least when she had been living alone, the only time she wore her cloak was when she was cold. Now, though, it was used to conceal, and she could not afford to leave it off. She took one last look at her face; her real face. She was the only one who could see it, and she hadn't dared to look in centuries. As she expected, she hadn't aged a day, the only difference was the worn expression of someone who had seen far too many battles and lost far too much for it.

With one last sigh, she turned from the saddened face in the mirror, and slowly pulled the indigo cloak over her shoulders and tied the string. Then, she reluctantly picked up her mask and placed it over her face. It was becoming an all-too-familiar accessory, and she was starting to resent the thing. Once she had tied the twine, she lifted the hood of her cloak, completing her full concealment. She idly wondered how much longer she could go on with such terrible actions, hiding and lying about key parts of herself.  She had to keep reminding herself this was necessary, but it did little to ease her guilt.

When she was ready, she headed for the direction of the Dwarves, knowing full-well that they would still be up and communing in merriment. Despite settling in an outdoor gazeebo, she could easily hear the sounds of their fun, cheers, and laughs as well as songs reverberating through the courtyard.  She was fairly certain the disquiet would drive the elves insane, as they preferred peaceful and low sounds over the rambunctious din. As she grew closer,  she could see a fire crackling, and clotheslines hung between the large white pillars surrounding them. She had almost finished her way up the steps to them when she heard all go quiet, making her stop to listen.

"-andalf, I- we- just wanna know, I think we deserve somethin'," Dwalin spoke up in frustration, seemingly continuing from a previous line of conversation.

"As I said, Mister Dwalin, it is not my story to tell," Gandalf answered, sounding slightly annoyed.

"What are we asking?" Nori questioned, sounding rather excited for new information.

"Kai," Both Dwalin and Gandalf spoke, causing her heartbeat to pick up.

"Oh..." Nori answered knowingly. "Then I believe you should answer Dwalin's question, whatever the specifics were."

"Again, it is  _not my tale_ ," Gandalf stressed, sounding truly upset with their line of questioning. She felt a swell of affection for the man, that he would be so loyal to her so quickly. Though, she supposed their nightly ritual of smoking Old Toby with Bilbo and chatting had made the three of them rather fast friends.

"Kai speaks much but gives us nothing of substance, I believe we deserve to know," Thorin finally spoke, her breath catching at the authority. Gandalf remained silent, seemingly contemplating this.

"I'll ask again: What debt is so great that one would partake in a quest with only strangers for companions?" Came Dwalin's hard response. She felt a lurch in her belly at this, terrified and relieved all at once. Secrets had never been her forte.

"Very well, but you must not judge him for any of the things I tell you, it was a  _very_  long time ago," Gandalf answered after a drawn out pause, causing a knot to form in Kaiamær's chest. Would he tell them everything? Would she even be allowed to continue on this journey?

"Understood," Thorin answered resolutely, followed by sounds of agreement from the rest of the company.

"As Radagast tells it, he was minding his own business in his own forest when a great many of his creatures ran to him in fright." Gandalf started, causing her to let out a sigh of relief and disappointment. He had skipped everything of importance.

"He's rather unnaturally attached to animals, isn't he?" Dori muttered good-naturedly. It earned him a few amused laughs from the others.

"Yes, thank you, Dori," Gandalf said with exasperation, not sounding thankful in the slightest. "They had been startled by a hooded figure stomping recklessly through the woods. Of course, he went to find the source of their fear, expecting a thief or a thug, but instead what he found was a rather short... Riverfolkman with a deep sword wound just shy of his heart "

Kaiamær leaned against the closest pillar, settling in for the rest of the story. She reached a hand up and rubbed at her chest in remembrance, unable to feel the deep scar still there over her heart for the armor in the way. Though it had been a terrible experience, she still looked upon the experience with fondness. Radagast had been very upset that she had caused mass panic, and had scolded her thoroughly before even learning her name.

"The trolls said that once: Riverfolk. What does that mean?" Fíli piped up in curiosity.

"Well, they're a very small and obscure race that look similar to men but have a unique way with water. They are highly attuned to rivers and lakes, just as you dwarves are attuned to gems and stone." Gandalf explained patiently. "That is why I introduced him as being of the race of men. They have little difference in appearance, and they are so scarce that they prefer to be seen as common."

"But, why wouldn't the Trolls eat him too?" Bofur spoke up this time, never afraid to broach the topics others were afraid to.

"Because if you intentionally cause ill to come to this race, you may find yourself having  _very_ bad luck with any kind of water for a great many years," Gandalf told them happily, even as someone the others muttered to themselves at the discovery.

"So what happened next?" Dori asked impatiently, tired of their sidetracking.

"Ah, yes. So, this young Riverman had a decidedly mortal wound and had made his way into the forest to sit by the river within it. He had wanted the last thing he saw to be the thing he loved most," Gandalf continued on. "Radagast was going to leave the lad be, for it would take much energy to heal him, and he felt it would be better spent aiding his animals."

"That's terrible!" Kíli cried, only to be hushed by the others.

"What changed his mind?" Thorin grudgingly asked.

"Well, he observed the dying man's character," Gandalf answered brightly. "Just as this young man had slid down against a tree, a murder of pure white crows made their way into the small clearing. Within this murder were a few younglings just learning to fly, and one such youngling was much worse than the others, nearly falling at every turn."

"I see where this is going" Fíli sounded very proud of himself. Kaiamær had to suppress a giggle of hysteria, terrified of the reactions of the others.

"In a bid of exhaustion, the poor thing went to perch along a dead log. But In the midst of landing, the bird had gotten a foot snagged on one of the grooved edges, trapping it." Came Gandalf's voice. "No matter what it tried, or what its companions did, it was well and thoroughly stuck. In its struggles, its foot had been cut very badly, striking a chord in the man's heart. This Riverman, despite being shown little kindness throughout the course of his journies, decided to get up and gently free the young crow for no other reason but kindness."

The others let out a jumble of comments, some mocking, some adoring. It was hard to make out each response for the new level of noise. She could still remember the agony of moving, but she hadn't wanted the poor thing to suffer. If she had left Astályss to her own devices, her friend would have most likely lost a leg. A crow without one of their key limbs would soon die, and she had not wanted to pass that sentence by sitting idly.

"After freeing the bird, the figure collapsed, pain overpowering consciousness. It was then that the small youngling cried out and begged Radagast to save him." Gandalf started once more when all was silent, or at least quieter. "He couldn't say no to the earnest plea and set about saving Kai's life. It took much energy and drained most of his medicinal supplies, but he was able to heal him."

The others seemed satisfied with his answer, each making their own comments on the matter. It seemed that she had gained a modicum of respect from the others, and, it seemed, adoration from the two dwarf princes. She was very glad that her small companion was not here to witness the retelling of their meeting, for she knew that she would be embarrassed and angry at Gandalf for sharing. Astályss already wouldn't live it down with her flock, and if she was teased by the Dwarves she would have a fit. Kaiamær straightened, standing away from the pillar, ready to join the conversation. She walked forward, stopped once more by another voice.

"How did he come by his wounds?" Thorin asked, cleverness shining through. He had noticed that Gandalf had not shared anything to do with her actions previous, and Thorin was most likely unsatisfied with that. She rushed forward, walking into view. No one had noticed her, but they soon would.

"In battle, of course." She spoke up with a fake calmness, watching as all eyes snapped to her. Many of the Dwarves looked on with horror, mortified that they had been caught talking about her. Thorin gave her an annoyed stare, expression telling her that this wasn't over.

"Apologies, Master Kai, they were just curious." Gandalf gave her a look that showed he knew how long she had been there.

"I can't fault any of you for wandering minds, but next time, just  _ask_ , I have not refused any of your questions before," She told them earnestly, voice deepened once more.

"Wonderful! Then why don't you take over questions while I go and rest," Gandalf told her brightly, standing up and walking away. She let out a fond huff before sitting in front of the fire, grateful for the plate of food that was soon placed in her hands. None seemed to be in the asking mood, however, appearing rather chastised by her presence. It became quite clear that she had to be the one to break the tension, ready to ask a question of where they got the meat. She was stopped, however, by the strangely familiar-looking shapes of the wood within the fire.

"Is... Are those logs from parts of Elven furniture?" Kaia asked incredulously, only to be met with cheery answers and laughing replies. Tension bled out of them when she scolded them jokingly, dramatically waxing poetic about the greatness of Elven armchairs. They mocked the design, in turn, causing laughter to fill the area. All was right once more.

**⤬⤬⤬⤬⤬  
**

Dawn had just broken through when Kaiamær was woken by a kick to her side. She bolted upright, sword drawn, only to stop and realize where she was. The others were sending her weird glances at the display, clearly unused to someone with so much vigilance. She looked around and, after finding no threats in the immediate area, sheathed her sword. She turned to the others, putting her hands on her hips in annoyance.

"Was that really necessary?" She growled, knowing that the others felt her aura of disapproval.

"Yer bird has been chirping incessantly for the last 5 minutes. She refuses to speak Westeron to us, but she was also unwilling to wake you. Problem solved." Bofur told her brightly, grinning with a sinister air. The look most likely meant that if she hadn't woken, they would have skinned the bird alive.

  "Astàlyss?" She murmured, gratified when her companion quickly flew to her outstretched arm. She started to chirp out her answer but was silenced by a flick to the tip of her beak. "Westeron, please. I'd rather not relay messages back and forth."

"Hmph, Gandalf wanted me to tell you that we must leave. Rivendell has more visitors; The White Council has convened." Astàlyss told her, nipping her fingers in retaliation.  

  "What is that? Is it bad?" Bilbo asked. The others seemed to know what she was talking about but didn't understand the negative implications of their convening.

  "No, not normally. It is a group of Elves and Wizards that come together to discuss threats to the realm. The issue with that is we may be one of those threats," She told him, continuing even at the glare from his majesty, King of Asperity. "We  _are_  going to wake a dragon, after all."  

"Right," Bilbo answered weakly, the word more of a wheeze than anything else. The others, however, had already jumped into a mad scramble in order to pack their supplies as quickly possible.

It was a rather short amount of time before they were sneaking their way out of the Elven haven after that. Kaiamær, having been there many times before, was able to point the group to the easiest, and quietest, route through the city. Though Thorin seemed reluctant to take her advice at first, he soon learned that it was in his best interest to listen for once. The point was rather well driven in when he refused her help and went a different direction, forcing her to bodily drag him out of sight as a group of Elven soldiers passed.

It was only when they had made it completely out of the city, where it could be seen from a distance once more that the Dwarves seemed to relax. Astàlyss, in a rare show of laziness, had planted herself on Kaiamær's shoulder, settling in to stare at her friend's new companions. She paid no mind to her feathery companion, idly wondering how much it had wounded their pride to be in the presence of 'tree huggers.'

"Good Riddance," Dwalin muttered bitterly, met with a chorus of vehement agreement. Apparently, it had wounded their pride  _greatly._

"Dwalin, you do realize that the only reason we have come this far, is because Lord Elrond killed the orcs we were being chased by, yes? He even read your map, even though he had just had to sit through Thorin's brusqueness all throughout supper. And he sat through it with a  _smile_ , no less," Kaiamær pointed out dryly, trying to suppress her laugh and not entirely succeeding. Bilbo let out a snort of his own, but quickly tried to disguise it as a cough, he wasn't entirely successful either.

The rest of the company stared at them in shock, some with delight (like Fíli and Kíli), others with heavily offended expressions on their faces (Dwalin, Dori). She glanced up at the head of their group, startled by the fact that Thorin had heard her if the murderous glare he was giving her was any indication. Despite her spot at the very back of the group, he seemed to have a keen listening ear. She shrugged her shoulders unapologetically, the gesture only serving to make him angrier. He turned back around with an offended huff, steps becoming heavier with his ire.

"He has every right to be that way! What help did they send when we needed 'em?" Dwalin asked in outrage, hand unconsciously traveling to the hilt of his battleaxe. She let out a sigh, lifting a hand to stay his blade. He seemed to realize what he was doing, as he pulled his hand away after a calming breath.

"Perhaps he had already sent out his aid to the two Kingdoms the Dragon had just burned before yours? That there was nothing left to give?" She pointed out, a tad gentler than before. The others fell completely silent, suddenly finding anything other than the conversation at present the most  _fascinating_  thing in the world. Bilbo turned to look upon the great city once more, seemingly looking upon it with a new light. She tapped his shoulder, as he had stopped in his tracks to stare. He seemed to break himself of his reverie, turning a questioning eye to hers.

"Master Baggins, I suggest you keep up," Thorin called bitingly from his spot at the front of the group, causing Bilbo to jump and jog to catch up with the rest of the group. He was followed closely by an exasperated River Maiden, who was starting to think this journey was a bit more trouble than she'd hoped.


	10. The First Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Company continues onward, Kaiamær is forced to choose between keeping one of her many secrets and saving some of the Dwarves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's another piece of the story, guys! I'm really proud of how this chapter turned out, despite the atrocious length. I'm sorry about that, I just have so many things to say, and a clear outline for what goes in which chapter, so... at least it's not 4,000 words long? 
> 
> Sadly, not everything is revealed in this chapter, I have too many plans for that. ;)
> 
> Also, do you guys notice how she's slowly starting to stand up to Thorin in her own special way? I really wanted to create a character who was very sweet, and much less sassy, because I feel like Thorin would need someone softer to combat his rough edges. So yeah, deliberate character development and whatnot. 
> 
> As per usual, I'm always open to comments and suggestions.
> 
> Enjoy!

One thing that Kaiamær was learning rather quickly was that Dwarves absolutely  _hated_  rain. More than the cold, more than exhaustion, more than  _Rivendell_. They despised the rain with a fierceness that only few could compete with, an easy thing to surmise when they were being drowned in it. Thorin, being the Dwarf he was, had decided that they should continue up the mountain pass they had reached, despite the slight drizzle that had already started at the time. Most of the company was exhausted, but his word was law, and so they continued. The drizzle had quickly become rain, and rain had become a flood. She would be amused about the whole thing if it wasn't for the unnatural air about the heavy downpour. It caused an uneasy feeling to sink into her gut,  a first for her. She was always comfortable with any form of water, but then again, she'd always been around natural water sources.

No one said much, for the noise of water splashing rock and the cold seeping into their bones, but she could sense their utter discomfort. She was dealing with her own discomfort, but not for ordinary reasons: Something was causing this rain. She could sense something slightly sinister about it, she had since they had first started their trek upward. She had attempted to warn Thorin, but he had dismissed her as being paranoid, as batty as Gandalf, or both. She was starting to understand why the Wizard looked as though he was perpetually restraining himself from strangling him. Astàlyss, true to form refused to go further when it was raining, and so they'd left her behind to catch up with them later. She had tried to convince Kaiamær to join her in waiting it out, but from the look Thorin gave her, she knew he'd most likely leave them both behind and be done with it. So she grudgingly continued onward, taking up the rear as she had a much higher chance of survival if she were to fall. There was also the fact that she would be able to catch most if they fell. Save Bombur. At the very thought, she let out an involuntary shudder. If Bombur fell, they- and anyone else who was in the Dwarf's way- would be doomed, no two ways about it. 

After one too many close-calls, she decided that subtle enchantments wouldn't hurt if she was quiet and careful. She began to whisper in a long-forgotten language, focusing her energy upon those with the least amount of balance. Slowly, the rocks became less slippery, the rain less cold, the line of sight less clouded. It seemed to help them significantly, but she knew that if they didn't find shelter soon, their exhaustion would cause injury. Thorin seemed to be contemplating the same thing, swinging his head back and forth every few minutes, searching for a cave or overhanging.

As they trudged on, she felt a niggling sensation in the back of her mind. Her magic reserves were dwindling much faster than usual, as though her well of energy had sprung a leak. It was as if it was draining away before most of it could be channeled by its user. It was a chilling sensation, for she had only dealt with this a handful of times in all her years. A million different explanations came to her, but none of them were good. She was broken out of her musing by violent tremors from the mountain. The others cried out in terror, knuckles white on their hand-holds.

"Look out!" Dwalin roared, pointing upward. A massive boulder had smashed into the mountain, shattering above them. Stones larger than the whole group combined fell toward them, causing all in the company to press themselves along the mountain. Shouts and curses could be heard as the rocks slammed against the formation above them. One quick look to the others told her that no one had been crushed. With that out of the way, Kaiamær glanced around frantically before spotting what would confirm her fears. The rock hadn't fallen, it had been  _thrown._

"This is no thunderstorm; it's a thunder battle! Look!" Balin shouted, pointing to the subject of her gaze. A massive stone giant, a creature made from the rock of a mountain, had risen from its slumber, looking rather angry. Well, as angry as a faceless body made of rock  _could_  look. The Giant grabbed a mammoth-sized boulder from a nearby mountain, hurtling it into the air, only to land on another giant farther away. There were shouts as the rest of the company noticed the ginormous moving mountain, terrified beyond coherent sentences.

"Bless, me the legends are true. Giants! Stone Giants!" Bofur called out reverently, only to be forcibly pulled back by Balin.

Just as they leaned further into the mountainside, it began to shake all on its own. The others let out panicked shouts, but Kaiamær knew exactly what was going on. The ground beneath Kíli's feet split, forcing the group into two sections on either side. The young prince was forced to let go of his brother's hand and jump to the opposite side in order to survive. That left her, Fíli, Ori, Dwalin, Bombur, and Bifur on one end, while the rest were on the other. It seemed they were on a giant of their own.

 There was little time to think as one giant headbutted their own, forcing it backward. The side of one leg slammed into a mountainside, allowing those on the opposite leg to scramble to a safer position, a small relief in a situation such as this. Her group, of course, was not so lucky, forced to sway, scrabbling for purchase with each blow. After a particularly jarring hit, she threw caution to the wind, allowing her chanting to rise in volume. She urged the rain to weave around the others like a safety strap, and it quickly bent to her will, securing them all in place in time for another boulder to impact their giant. She started to feel a tell-tale pain along her arms, something she had been expecting, there were always consequences. She ignored her discomfort, focusing on keeping the others, and herself, alive.

Out of all of them, only Fíli and Dwalin noticed their extra support, looking wildly around before they focused on her outstretched hands; before they heard her melodic spells. They could only give her a moment's attention before they were forced back to the task at hand: not falling off the mountain. The giant was being particularly unhelpful with this, using their leg as its pivot. It brought their group closer and farther from the rest in intervals, only serving to cause more fear and heartache.

It was when their giant has beheaded that things truly went sideways, so to speak. As it plummeted backward, they were thrust toward the mountainside, not far from the others. She could not let the others die like this, and so she drew from the last of her reserves as they crashed into the rock before them. For a split second, she thought they were all going to die, but just in time, the rain surrounding them morphed into a solid sphere. It quickly became a protective barrier, shielding them from the debris that would have otherwise ground them to dust.

She could feel and hear how terrified her passengers were of the unknown force surrounding them. It took but a moment for them to turn to her, finally hearing her repeated lines.  She coughed, tasting copper on her tongue. They all watched as blood seeped from beneath her bracers, dripping down and mixing with their watered floor, but still, she persisted. Despite her vision blurring and the pain lancing through her, she was able to ease their sphere down onto the intact ledge below.

 As soon as they touched down, she collapsed, their sphere bursting and watering the ground they stood upon even further. she used her bloody hands to keep herself sitting up, leaning her torso on them, head hanging low. Just as she caught her breath, Thorin and Bofur appeared from behind a boulder. Their leader shouted Fíli's name before rushing to him, drawing him into a panicked embrace. Bofur cheered, informing the others of their fortune. She finally lifted her head, only to see those she had saved staring at her, not saying a word.  

"Where's Bilbo?" Balin cried out farther away, panicked. Fear bolted through her heart, she forced herself to stand, moving forward to help her friend.

"There!" Ori announced, a commotion coming from beyond their ledge. He had fallen, hands hanging onto the rock's edge by a proverbial thread. She tried to bend the water once more, only to collapse against the mountainside with an alarmingly wet cough. She couldn't do it; she couldn't save her friend. The detrimental effects of the rain had reduced her power to that of when she was just reaching adulthood. It was frustrating, embarrassing, and heartbreaking all at once. Just as Bilbo was about to fall, Thorin jumped down, practically throwing Bilbo over the ledge's edge. He was quickly taken hold of by the others, causing her to sigh in relief. However, from one moment to the next, Thorin lost his grip, letting out a panicked shout. If it wasn't for Dwalin he would have fallen to his death, the burly Dwarf catching his arm just in time, pulling him up to safety.

"I thought we'd lost our burglar." Dwalin sighed out after a moment, sounding relieved.

"He's been lost ever since he left home." Thorin roared, turning to glare at the Hobbit in question. "He should never have come. He has no place amongst us."

Bilbo looked devastated by the words, but she could do nothing in her condition, so she remained silent. She would console the smaller creature when she wasn't feeling like she'd fall apart into little, butchered pieces. Luckily, Thorin said no more to Bilbo after that, signaling Dwalin to follow him, having found a cave to rest in for the night. She let out a small sigh of relief, for she definitely needed the rest. She felt a gentle hand on one injured shoulder,  making her wince and look up. It was Fíli, who was hesitantly offering her his hand. She noticed the fear clouding some of his gratitude, but she chose not to comment, taking his assistance gratefully. Moving, however, cause the barely-healing wounds to reopen, coloring the Princeling's hand with thick red blood.

"Woah, lad! You're Bleeding!" Cried out Oín, forcing his way over to her and grabbing her hands before she could hide them. Bifur started speaking in his deep and raspy Khuzdul, hands waving around for emphasis. The ones who hadn't been subject to her display, minus Bilbo as he couldn't understand dwarf speak, gasped at his words, looking toward her.

"Magic?" Thorin repeated in Westeron, having just come from inside the cave. She let out a long, put-upon sigh. "You said nothing of being a Wizard."

"That is because I am no Wizard. I am  _Riverfolk_ , and we have sway with water. I used it as I always have." She explained patiently, leaning on Oín for support.

"So you always make giant water bubbles that stop 5 dwarves and a grown Riverman from becoming mincemeat?" Fíli asked skeptically. The others immediately started to ask questions at once, Bombur, Bifur, and Fíli all starting to explain to those closest to them.

"Is that what Gandalf meant when he said your kind 'become one with water?'"Balin asked her gently.

"I don't envy your abilities, lad. Becoming one with water looks rather painful." Oín snorted, having rolled up her sleeves to reveal her bare forearms. The others gasped once more, crowding her to look at the thin red swirls and sharp runes. They were curse runes, ones that trailed up each arm and made their way down her back. By their reactions, she assumed they knew nothing of curses, for they didn't shout or cower in fear.

"It's usually much less severe, but the dark magic of the thunderstorm..." She winced as Oín poked a particularly deep cut.

"Why did you tell us nothing of this? We already had a Wizard amongst us, you would not be turned away." Thorin asked her accusingly, face angry once more.  _I wonder what he'd look like if he only smiled more_ , she thought absently before shaking herself. It must have been the pain muddling her sensibilities.

"Gandalf _did_  tell you. He just didn't tell you everything," She defended, starting to scratch at a particularly bad wound, only to have her hand slapped away by a stern healer.

"That's Gandalf though, isn't it," Bilbo muttered, earning a nod from a grateful River-Maid.

"Can we even trust you if you've been lying to us this whole time?" Thorin asked venomously,  cutting her deeply before he started to stomp toward the cave.

"Thorin, if I had intentions to kill any of you, I would have done so much earlier, I'm older than the first  _Elf_. Besides, I just  _saved_  half of you, my only motive was that I care." She told him in exasperation, coughing up more blood for her efforts. Honestly, he was such a child.

  "You should have told us," Thorin grunted after a moment of contemplation. He gave her one last glare before wordlessly stomping his way back into the cave. 

"Don't mind him... Let's get you inside so that I can bandage these," The elderly healer told her gently, offering his arm as support. She sighed once more before acquiescing and grabbing the offered hand. Smoothing things out with His Moodiness was going to have to wait, she needed rest and treatment, and perhaps a change in shirts.

**⤬⤬⤬⤬⤬**   

Once they were indoors, Oín had tried to have her take off her top layers completely, but she was adamant about the privacy of Riverfolk, not entirely a lie. Eventually, She grudgingly agreed to roll up her sleeves and tend her, even though she knew they'd heal into deep scars in a few hours. She wasn't even going to  _mention_  the cuts on her back. One secret was more than enough for the night, let alone gender stigmatisms. Oín was unusually gentle in his ministrations, showing how worried he was by the muscle-deep cuts littering her arms. The others had tasked themselves with setting up a fireless camp, but they were just as worried if the failing-to-be-surreptitious looks were anything to go by.

"Are you bleeding anywhere else?" Oín asked gently, after wrapping her arms until there was hardly any skin left showing. She shook her head, feeling only slightly guilty for lying to him. He finally let her go after a promise to let him know of any developments, much to her relief. She quickly found a darkened corner to change shirts, being careful not to let the others see anything, before she stepped back into view, her bloodied shirt tucked into her cloak.

 As soon as she noticed that her bedroll had been set out for her, she had rolled back down her sleeves, resettled her cloak, and all but collapsed onto the softer surface. She would change her shirt when she felt less like tenderized beef. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a hesitant Bilbo edging his way in her direction. She let out a huff of amusement before waving him over.

"Are you sure you're alright, Kai?" Bilbo asked her quietly once he'd knelt next to her. He looked like a shadow of his former self, figure slumped in defeat. It was if he thought her injuries were his fault. She gently grabbed one of his scrunched fists in her hands, squeezing reassuringly.

"I should be asking that of you, Bilbo. Thorin was unfairly harsh. Though, I do understand why." She answered softly. He gave her an incredulous look.

"Well, I'm certain that  _I_  don't understand," He countered, looking at her as if she had grown an extra head. "I've done everything in my power to stay out of his way. If I was that much of a burden, he should have let me fall."

"Don't even joke about it, Bilbo, I'm too fond of you to lose you to something so mundane." She scolded him, tightening her hold on his hand. His eyes widened in disbelief, making her heart break for him. "Thorin was happy to save one of his company, whether he wants to admit so or not. He was just terrified and emotionally drained, and he couldn't handle more stress. For a moment he thought he'd lost a nephew and some good friends... It can be rather traumatizing."

" _Can_ be traumatizing? It  _is_  traumatizing! I think  _I'm_  traumatized!"Bilbo cried in exasperation, falling back onto his buttocks in shock. He quickly quieted down when he noticed that he'd drawn the stares of the others. She chuckled, gingerly sitting up onto her elbows.

"It _is_  traumatizing, so I must ask you to forgive his words. You may be unskilled, and a softer creature, but people who are like you are the reason us battle-worn travelers are doing this. You are a healthy reminder of that, a bit of sunshine on a rather dark road." She told him earnestly, as quietly as she could. No matter how low she kept her voice, she could tell the others were listening keenly if the silence was anything to go by. They had all taken to their bedrolls, but most sat up and were feigning recreational activities. Those who were actually laying down had the breathing patterns of someone who didn't want others to know they were awake. They were pathetic that way.

"Maybe for  _you_ , I am. He's told me I'm not welcome, that I'm useless to this quest, too many times for me to just brush it off," He murmured bitterly, hand tightening in hers.

"Without you, they would have been eaten by Trolls." She reminded him gently.

"You would have used your abilities if I hadn't, they didn't need me." He countered despairingly.

"I must confess that had I used my abilities, I'd have killed some of them in the process. They were in blast range, and I hadn't used my gifts in so long it would have been too wide. Your actions kept that blood from my hands and guilt from my mind. You were  _crucial_ , you  _are_  crucial." She told him with quiet conviction.

"Why are you always so kind to me? I'm nothing but a descendant of a long-dead friend, yet you treat me as though I am someone of worth." He asked her quietly, looking close to tears. 

"I am always kind because I know how it feels when  _no one_  gives you kindness. And you  _are_  of worth." She told him earnestly.  He reminded her so much of her brother and sister, they had always come to her with things like this. She continued with a mock seriousness then: "I do not offer the  _honor_  of my friendship to just anyone." 

"Is that why you never say a bad word against Thorin, then? Because you have decided to show kindness to even the meanest of men?" Bilbo asked after a moment of blinking back grateful tears. She let out a quiet laugh, reaching up to ruffle his curls. He looked slightly scandalized, smoothing his locks down immediately afterward. Still, he was trying to keep a smile from curving his lips, showing that he didn't truly mind.

"Thorin isn't so bad, Bilbo. Despite his mistrust of some of us, he has worked twice as hard as most leaders to keep  _all_ of us safe and healthy. He has a good heart, deep down." She told him solemnly, looking at the subject of conversation. She was surprised to find him staring back, having turned to face them when she wasn't paying attention. He quickly broke their shared gaze, but what she saw was telling enough. His eyes had shown so much agony, an expression that she knew all too well.

"It would have to be  _very_  deep indeed," Bilbo answered with a sniff, before smiling at her with an embarrassed tinge to his cheeks. "You know, I've never had any siblings, but... I think a good sibling would be a bit like you."

"High praise from a Hobbit. Now, get some rest, it's a rare luxury." She told him with a blinding smile he couldn't see but could definitely hear, before calling out to the others in exasperation. "That goes for the rest you of you, you eavesdropping little imps."

She heard grumbles from the others, all looking anywhere but her. Bilbo's eyes widened, cheeks flushing furiously at the realization that their conversation was not a private one. He squeaked out an apology before diving for his bedroll in embarrassment. He was mortified, the poor man. She, on the other hand, had had centuries of going on adventures and having no privacy and just huffed at the nerve of the others. Still, it had allowed her to urge Thorin toward kindness without a confrontation. If he was as honorable as she believed, perhaps he would be kinder to Bilbo, and maybe- not that she was holding her breath- forgive her for the secret-keeping. Now it was just a question of how long she could keep all the others...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you guys think! Next up: Goblins.


	11. A Most Unpleasant Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when the Company is resting from their frightening experience with Mountain Giants, the floor opens beneath them and they fall into the waiting arms of Goblins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I finally made a chapter that wasn't a horrendous length. Yay me!
> 
> Also, a bit of a sneak peak at what Kaiamær can do with the other elements, which will be expanded upon in the next chapter. And don't fear! Romance-y things will be more prominent as the chapters progress, so don't despair. I just want them to be friends first because Thorin (a) can't see her face and (b) doesn't know she's a woman.
> 
> It's one thing I hate about a bunch of male on male pairing fiction in this fandom. In this era, those relationships would be seen as absolutely scandalous, and Thorin especially couldn't afford to get with someone like that on a whim, it has to be true, deep, love. There are some fanfics that touch on that subject (which I commend them and love them so much for), but most of them skim over the subject and get down into the romance. that is why it'll take a while for them to actually head toward being together. Though, I promise it won't be too slow of a burn.
> 
> Anyway, Enjoy!

Kaiamær was woken from a deep, peaceful sleep by Thorin's panicked shouts and the others' answering groans. He was shouting something about Orcs or Goblins, and she was set into motion. She bolted upright, sword drawn before her eyes had even opened, ready for any threat. When she looked and noticed nothing, she decided an ambush was still imminent and rolled her pack together. It took less than 30 seconds, just enough time for the others to be up and awake.  She had dealt with enemies in the dead of night too many times  _not_  to act quickly in a situation like this.

 She swiftly made her way to the exit at their Leader's behest, urging those who were lagging behind forward. It was all in vain, however, when the floor suddenly vanished, sending them hurtling down a chute-like chasm. She heard a panicked, non-human screech and the flapping of wings, telling her that Astàlyss, who had most likely caught up to them during the night, was following their descent.

She could pay that no mind to her old friend, too busy plummeting down the chute-like hole. It was muscle memory to dig her sword into the sides of the tunnel, slowing her fall with each stab and subsequent release. She was delighted to find that it took very little effort, she was back to full (non-magical) strength. The others, however, were not so lucky. Many had only just woken up, having no time to gather their supplies, or even draw their swords. It was better this way, for someone could have been stabbed with their needless flailing. Then again, she didn't blame them for panicking as they fell down the cavern.

By the time she got to the giant claw-like cage waiting for them at the bottom, it was a very small bounce. The others were not so lucky, however, as she had seen them land with many a loud thunk instead of near-silence.  Many of the others were groaning in pain and asking groggy questions, panic starting to seep into them.

 In the next moment, part of the claw opened to show a small walkway. Relief flooded her, before a hoard of goblins burst from the shadows, rushing toward them. Despite most of the Company being seasoned warriors, they still stood little chance against the sheer number of nasty beings ambushing them. 

Being one of greater strength and stamina, she fought longer than the others could, but she too was overwhelmed. If her magic reserves hadn't been so thoroughly drained from that devil rain, then they would all stand a chance. After finally using her abilities, she would have much more finesse and much less deepness to her wounds. Alas, she couldn't, for fear of losing consciousness, or worse if she pushed herself too far.

"Astàlyss, _find Gandalf, lead him to us_ ," She shouted up to her flying friend, speaking in Sindarin so as not to alert the Goblins of their plan.

"But-"  Astàlyss replied, looking reluctant to leave her.

"Go, I will be fine," She answered, paying no mind to the Goblins trying to silence her. With one last reluctant look, the bird flew up, leaving the same way they came. Hopefully, Gandalf would get to them before any harm could come to the company. It was only once she knew the bird was safe that she allowed the Goblins to tie her hands and take her sword. She counted the heads of those in front of her, finding one missing. She whipped her head around, searching frantically for Bilbo, assuming the worst had happened.

Relief flooded through her when she noticed the small creature curled into a ball on the floor, unnoticed by their foes. Perhaps he could find a way out, and maybe help Gandalf to think of a plan for their rescue. She had faith that the two of them would be able to save them, that they'd want to. Before any of the Goblins could notice the subject of her gaze, she faced forward, graciously allowing them to shove her forward without decapitating them.

They were taken through a vast network of tunnels and bridges, leading them to the place she wanted to be the very least. She had heard it while the Goblins spoke in their mother tongue: They were taking them to their King. She had gone the 6,000 years (give or take) since the creation of the Goblins without ever meeting any King of theirs. She hadn't even learned  _Goblin language_  from the actual creatures, she had studied it in an elven city so as to use it to her advantage during one of the many wars she had been in. She had deliberately managed to avoid dealing with these vile beings in large capacities for  _so many years_ , and one quest - one that was very small compared to the many others that she had participated in- was all it took to break apart that one small mercy. She found herself glaring at the back of Thorin's head for the rest of their journey through these despicable caves.

They were finally forced onto a massive platform made of wood and rock, a lone structure with nothing but air surrounding it. The bridges running around it were filled with crowds of clamoring goblins, all wanting to get a closer look at their prey. In the center of the ginormous cavern sat a throne, and upon it, the ugliest, and largest, goblin she had ever seen. He had warts covering his visible areas, jiggling with each movement of his long, drooping second chin. He reminded her of a slug, one with crooked teeth, stringy white patches of hair. He wore a crown made of crude and sharp wood and held a mace topped with a skull in his gnarled fingers, making him look far more menacing that he ought to. Seemed to notice them then, staring them down with glassy eyes.

"Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom? Spies? Thieves? Assassins!?" He spoke out loudly, working himself up with each question. It seemed as though he was excited by the thought, which told her everything she needed to know about his character.

 "Dwarves, Your Malevolence." One of the goblins in front of them spoke, appearing to be a General of some kind. He stood then, body jiggling with the effort of the movement.

"Dwarves?" He asked incredulously, taking a closer look at his prisoners.

"We found them on the front porch." The goblin replied, looking rather pleased with himself. She sighed because  _of course_ , they had slept on the front porch of a goblin lair.

"Well, don't just stand there; search them! Every crack, every crevice," He ordered, to which they were quick to answer. 

Goblins started to search her, but one warning in their screeching language had them backing up in bewilderment. It was very rare that an outsider knew their mother tongue, and those who did tended to be very old, and  _very_  powerful. When they started forward once more, she flashed them just enough of her bare arms for them to see the cursed runes. The effect was immediate, they hissed and screeched, leaving her be. It eased her mind somewhat to know that she still had her pack, and the provisions within it. It wasn't much, but any supplies were better than none at this point.

"Can you do anything, lad?" Dwalin muttered to her, looking slightly hopeful, as the Goblin King spoke, searching for answers.

"Not as such, I've drained my recourses," She answered sadly. Though he was disappointed, he nodded in solemn understanding.

"-alk, we'll make them squawk! Bring out the Mangler! Bring out the Bone Breaker! Start with the youngest." The king announced, pointing at Ori, who was standing at the center of the group for protection.

"Wait," Thorin spoke up, causing Kaiamær to close her eyes in sadness. This was going to get uglier. 

"Well, well, well, look who it is. Thorin son of Thrain, son of Thror; King under the Mountain." He greeted him with a mocking bow, before putting a yellowed nail to his temple. "Oh, but I'm forgetting, you don't have a mountain. And you're not a king. Which makes you... nobody, really. I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head. Just the head, nothing attached. Perhaps you know of whom I speak, an old enemy of yours. A Pale Orc astride a White Warg."

  "Azog the Defiler was destroyed. He was slain in battle long ago!" Thorin hissed out, nearly spitting in his rage. 

"So you think his defiling days are done, do you?" The goblin king asked, before laughing condescendingly. He turned to a rather small Goblin sitting in a basket suspended by a pulley system. "Send word to the Pale Orc; tell him I have found his prize."   

The small creature scribbled it down on a piece of parchment, before using the pulling system to glide away into the darkness. Then began the waiting game, for they started to haul out the torture devices. The machines that they were going to use had been impractically stored many bridge rows down from their own location, making the hauling of the massive devices a slow and arduous task. While the others crowded together in horror at the contraptions inching their way toward them, Thorin looked ready to try something suicidal in his rage. She knew that if she didn't think of something, he would make things so much worse.

"Any of you have a few desperate plans?" She asked the others, ignoring the glares for the use of 'desperate.' So began the brainstorming. A few of the others had a few half-baked ideas, none solid enough to implement. Some of the others seemed to be resigned to their fate and had begun to make peace with their death.

By now the huge Goblin had started singing a gruesome tale of what he would do with his toys, prancing around and shaking the platform with each jump. The machines would take perhaps 15 minutes more to bring forward, and then the true "fun" would begin. They were running out of time, and she knew it too. She started to feel around for water sources, anything she could use to give the others time to run. Her magic reserves had started to replenish themselves as if sensing her looming danger, giving her an extra boost of confidence. If she used only what she  _absolutely_ needed, then she could get them all out of this alive. If worse came to worst, she could use all of what she had to get the others out alive, perhaps making a sizable dent in the Goblin population before her death. 

She silently cursed, the only source of water was deep down into the ravine below them, she could not get it here in time. She most certainly didn't have the strength to even  _try._ She despaired for a moment, before she snapped her head up, getting another idea. She only needed to play for time, just as Bilbo had done with the Trolls. Gandalf needed the time to get here, and she knew for a fact that he had a faster means of transportation than most, just as Radagast did. Still, she dreaded using the element with the most abundance: air. It was her weakest element, and it had  _very_  unpleasant consequences.  The decision was quickly made for her when the goblin king got one look at Thorin's sword.

  "I know that sword! It is the Goblin-Cleaver, the Biter, the blade that sliced a thousand necks."   He bellowed, followed by hisses and war cries of the goblins holding them. "Slash them! Beat them! Kill them! Kill them all!"

She had just begun a whispered chant when a blinding white light filled the room, leaving no trace of color or sound. All those susceptible were knocked off of their feet, stunned and nearly unconscious by the heavy magic cast upon them. As she herself wielded magic, she was not affected, giving her a moment to collect herself. She looked up to see their savior: Gandalf, his staff firmly planted on the ground, his sword raised high above his head, and Astàlyss flying around him in circles. Relief flooded bone-deep into her being. They'd be alright.

**⤬⤬⤬⤬⤬**     

He shoulders slumped heavily in relief, the small amount of magic she had generated dispersng like a puff of smoke. Gandalf seemed to notice her then, sympathy filling his gaze. He could tell by her posture alone that she had been about to do something that would reveal herself. She cringed for the thought of telling him about her encounter with the Mountain Giants.

"Stand and Fight. Fight!" Gandalf shouted out as the candles that had lit the place began to glow once more. She had already grabbed her blade when the dwarves suddenly broke from their stunned state, looking around wildly. It took mere seconds before the Goblins followed, and soon chaos reigned. Goblins started rushing for her, forcing her to stop sorting through the weapons to swing her sword, taking down multiple pests with one blow. It was times like these where she enjoyed her added height. Sure, it was only half a foot, but it made all the difference. 

“He wields the FoeHammer, the Beater, bright as daylight!” The Goblin King cried out in recognition of the Wizard's blade, causing the other goblins to riot. Luckily, most of the Dwarves had already made it to their feet, brawling with the Goblins closest to them. 

"Thorin!" She called, before throwing his blade to him, just as the Goblin King ran at him with his mace. He caught it with ease, parrying the huge creature's attack with such force that the King stumbled back. The large Goblin swung at him again, only to have it blocked once more, the force of it causing him to fall back into his throne. The wooden structure broke under the weight, the Goblin King letting out a panicked shout as he fell off the side of the platform and into the darkness below. She let out an impressed huff, just loud enough over the screeching Goblins for Thorin to hear. He spared her just enough time to give her a self-satisfied smirk before he jumped back into the fray.

She began tossing the weapons of the others to the closest Dwarves, enjoying the way that they caught them and threw them to the right owner, quickly leading to all of them being armed once more. They all fought with a new vigor overwhelming those on the platform just enough that they had a clear path to one of the bridges.

"Follow me, quickly!" Gandalf ordered them before he ran toward the bridge with a speed that no elderly man should be able to have. They followed, nonetheless, noticing the Goblins running toward their platform.

As they ran down one of the many networks of bridges, enemies came out of the woodwork. They sliced and clawed, hit a brawled, cutting through the collective hoards of goblins with each obstacle they ran into. Each Dwarf played to their own strength, taking out handfuls of goblins at a time. The royal family used their speed, strength, and footwork to outmatch their foes. Bombur used his weight to his advantage, bouncing and blowing goblins clean off the bridge. Oín, Balin, and Dori used their underestimation to their advantages, playing up the helpless old men routine before subsequently crushing those who went easy on them. Dwalin and Gloín used brute strength, Nori used silence and shadows, Bifur and Bofur became a team of two... The only one who had little skill to speak of was Ori. He was better than Bilbo at fighting, of course, but more often than not, it was Dori and Nori that would save him from a terrible fate.

One of the most heart-wrenching experiences was when half of the bridge they were on collapsed, sending 1/3 of the others falling downward. Luckily, there had been a platform just beneath them, saving the others from hurtling to their death. Still, with Dori and Nori on a different set of bridges, Kaiamær found herself tasked with protecting their youngest member. The way he looked at her with awe each time she saved him made her heart melt at this silly dwarf. It was as if he didn't believe anyone but his brothers would care for him enough to protect him with such vigor.

After a stretch through the tunnels, the others were able to climb their way up, easing the way as they made their way forward. She noticed how the wooden structures that were under and around them began to creak and sway with the stress of so many Goblins trying to clamber their way onto them. Eventually, the others noticed too, as they began to use the environment around them, cutting ropes and destroying key structural points to bring down the bridges and ladders around them. Never before had she fought with such clever creatures, using any means to win their battles. Then again, most of her fighting had been on solid ground.

They were momentarily stopped by the Goblin King breaking part of the bridge they were on by flying up through the boards. It stopped them dead in their tracks, unable to go backward for the hoard of enemies waiting behind them. One taunt to Gandalf and he was stabbing the disgusting creature in the eye before slashing his stomach and throat respectively. The Goblin King fell to his knees, shaking the structure on which they stood. It was when he fell on his face that their bridge broke, sending them careening downwards.

The only things that saved them were the other bridges that their own fell upon and the narrow walls of the ravine that had broken their fall. Still, when they finally made it to the bottom of the cavern, it was a hard landing that had everyone groaning. From a large number of frankly feminine-sounding screams on the way down, she resolved never to tell them that the ride had actually been rather fun to her.

Being that she had a stronger body and stamina, she was the first to get up from the pile of exhausted dwarves. She was followed quickly by Gandalf, who looked just about ready to faint from all the exertion. She felt a light pressure on her shoulder, causing her to turn and see her feathery friend nearly collapsed against her neck in exhaustion. The poor thing was covered in dirt and grime, making her feathers a rather unflattering shade of grey rather than their natural white. She resolved to buy her a large pack of sunflower seeds in the next town they encountered for her troubles.

"Well, that could've been worse," Bofur spoke up after a moment, smiling cheekily at the others.  Just then, the Goblin King's corpse landed on top of most of the party, iliciting brand-new groans of pain. 

"You have  _got_  to be joking," Dwalin growled out, sounding rather murderous. They all began their own attempts at freeing themselves then, not keen on being crushed by the slug above them. It was this slug's descent, though, that alerted the others to the goblins climbing down one the slope they had just ridden down on. They looked like a swarm of ants charging their way toward a particularly scrumptious feast.

"Gandalf!" Kíli called out warningly, catching the Wizard's attention.

"Daylight is the only thing that will save us, run!" Gandalf announced, leading them off as they fled down a tunnel with light spilling from it. As their enemies rushed toward them, Kaiamær sent a prayer to the Valar that they would make it out alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	12. Azog's Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as The Company escapes the Goblins, they're faced with an even worse foe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter took a lot of thought and rewriting before I felt satisfied with it. I'm actually really proud of how it turned out if I'm being honest. Anyway, let me know what you guys think because it brings me joy to get your guys' feedback.
> 
> Enjoy!

Despite the Goblins closing in from all sides, and the light from the tunnel being a dim glow at best, they were able to break through. The midday sun shone brightly as they hurtled their way down the mountainside, eager to get as far away from the caves as possible. Thorin only allowed the group to stop when they had made their way down from the barren rock of the top of the peak to the grassy slopes near the bottom of the Mountain.

They still had just enough energy to give out backslaps, shoves, and headbutts in relief and triumph before flopping to the ground. Some of them even included Kaiamær in this Dwarven ritual, and, despite the pain that came with particularly hearty back slaps, she returned them just as affectionately as the others.  Still, as soon as she was able, she was leaning against the nearest tree, trying to catch her breath and work out the stitch from her side. Astàlyss, who had followed them by air, circled her until she held out her arm. When she landed on her wrist, Kaiamær couldn't quite hide the wince from claws digging into her cuts.

"I was gone for half a day, what did you do!?" Astàlyss cried, looking down in horror at her sluggishly bleeding wounds. She tried to shush her, but Gandalf had already noticed the fresh markings. He gently exposed her free arm, making a small noise of dismay at the already-healing wounds.

"When did you use it?" He asked her quietly, eyeing the others apprehensively. For their part, most of the company was staying silent, many ogling the wounds in befuddlement. They had most likely never seen injuries heal this quickly.

"There were Stone Giants, there was no choice." She waved him off. His shoulders relaxed minutely at the lack of shouting and mistrust from the Dwarves.

"Did you not recognize the dark magic?" Gandalf asked her in puzzlement. She let out a small sigh at the mere suggestion she hadn't identified the feeling of dark elements within the atmosphere.

"I had never experienced such detrimental rain, but yes, I noticed something odd. I suggested we stay until the shower had subsided." She answered wryly, looking pointedly at the Dwarf responsible. He shifted uneasily at her gaze, looking anywhere but her.

"And I suppose you were out-voted," Gandalf answered knowingly, sending a whithering glare Thorin's way. She huffed in amusement at the sudden dusting of pink coloring Thorin's face, having nothing to do with their previous exercise. Her humor vanished when she noticed one thing missing: Their Hobbit.

"Nevermind me, where is Bilbo? When he escaped, I thought he'd find you." She asked suddenly, a cold feeling worming its way down her spine.  What if he had met his end? What if he was still a prisoner within those accursed caves.

"Curse the halfling! Now he's lost?!" Dwalin moaned out in annoyance.

"Where did you last see him?" Gandalf asked frantically, looking terrified for the small creature.

"I think I saw him slip away, when they first collared us," Nori spoke up.

"What happened exactly? Tell me!" He asked demanded of the spy, gripping his shoulders in desperation. She opened her mouth, but she shocked into silence by Thorin's hateful words.

"I'll tell you what happened. Master Baggins saw his chance to return to his soft bed and warm hearth and he took it! He has thought of little else since he first stepped out his door. We will not be seeing  _our Hobbit_  again." He spat, throwing a look of contempt up to the peak of the mountain.

"How dare you?" She hissed out, head snapping up.

"How dare I what, Riverman, speak the truth?" He asked defiantly, shoulders straightening to strengthen his stance. She stood then, Astàlyss flying to land on a dumbstruck Gandalf to avoid being trampled. 

"How dare you have so little faith in one of your own Company, Thorin, son of Thraín." She spoke louder, stopping just in front of him, towering over him despite only being four inches his senior.

  "He was fleeing back to his Hobbit hole when we were attacked. He would be long gone if not for the Goblins." He countered darkly, glaring into the holes of her mask. 

 "Of  _course_  he would want to leave after being told by the leader of this quest in  _explicit detail_  how he did not belong, was not wanted nor needed!" She growled out, hands twitching to strangle this stupid,  _stupid_  dwarf.

"Would you have me coddle him like a child? Ensure his feelings are spared at the cost of my Company?" He barked out, looking murderous.

"No, I would have you treat him with the same respect you have bestowed on the rest of us. The respect he  _deserves_." She countered.

"Deserves? What has he done to deserve any respect from me!?" He cried in exasperation.

" I can see why you would overlook his worth. Bilbo can be classed as a creature of comfort. He can have a stiff upper lip, he can whine about small luxuries that most of us have gone without for decades. He isn't skilled in any type of brawling, he excels with no weapon, and his greatest strength is but his wit and charm. The atmosphere had become dark and ominous, causing the other Dwarves to shift back in fear. "But despite his niche skill-set he has saved our lives and kept up our spirits. That you dare to slander him after such bravery is appalling."

"Bravery? You call his constant whining and cowering  _bravery_!?" Thorin fumed, stepping into her space.

"Yes, he has been the  _bravest one of us all,_ " She told him coldly. He snarled, head rearing back in clear offense.

"You dare belittle  _my_  company-" He sneered, looking ready to draw his sword.

"Oh, your  _precious_ company's bravery was never in question, perhaps the intelligence of their leader is though. Do you have any idea of what he has sacrificed to help you on this journey?" She hissed out, shaking in her rage. "He is born from a race of creatures who value comfort and respectability above all else! Traveling even just past the border of The Shire is considered a right scandal. Going on an adventure is... By stepping out his door, he condemned himself to the life of an outcast within his  _own home_."

"Kai, you mustn't aggravate your injuries." Gandalf tried to pull her back gently, but she shook him off.

"No, he needs to hear these words, for all the good it may do him." She told the Wizard firmly, gratified by how he lifted his hands in surrender and stepped back. She turned back to the subject of her ire, aura darkening impossibly further. "He knew that it would cost him to help you, but he came. He  _came_. He is here because he has a good heart. He would not abandon us if he could do something to help. Anyone who would like to dispute that will have to face  _me._ " 

Silence reigned within the forest, even the wildlife seemed to understand the danger of making noise. Thorin was left speechless, expression stony in his shock. The words seemed to still be registering, and with them came a complete change in perception of the small creature. She could see it in his face, he would not underestimate Bilbo again.

"Never before have I had a friend so true as to defend me against all odds." A voice piped up from behind them. She whirled around, hoping beyond all hope it was who she thought it was. It was indeed their burglar, looking rather ridiculous, what with his winded look, grimy clothing, and nearly manic-looking grin. Her mind lingered for only a moment on his darker aura, before she was quickly stepping forward to scoop small creature up, twirling him around with a relieved laugh. Bilbo, for his part, let out an indignant squawk, arms and legs flailing around in startlement.

"Goodness Gracious, me. If Lobelia had seen that..." Bilbo muttered, dusting off his trousers and straightening his coat once she had finally let go of him.

"I feared that we had lost you to the cruelty of those caves,"  _That you had been killed,_   went unspoken.

"But not that I had abandoned you all?" He asked her with a gentle smile. She could still see his uncertainty, so she squeezed his shoulder in reassurance.

" _Never_." She stressed, heart breaking at the relief so plainly written across his features.

"Bilbo Baggins, I have never been so glad to see anyone in all my life." Gandalf sighed out in relief after a moment, approaching them to put a hand on the Hobbit's shoulder.

"Bilbo, you're alive!" Kíli was the first of the Dwarves to speak, breaking out of his stupor to grin wildly. "How on  _earth_ did you get past the Goblins?!"

"How, indeed," Dwalin asked suspiciously, sizing the small creature up. Kaiamær suddenly remembered his strange aura, taking a closer at her friend. She could sense something dark, but she couldn't pinpoint it. It was if he was shrouded in it, as if whatever it was that had changed him had no desire to be discovered. It was only when Bilbo laughed off the looks and slipped something into his pocket that she honed in on the Enchantment's signature.

"Well, what does it matter? He's back!" Gandalf announced, and by the tone of his voice, she knew he had noticed something strange as well. She resolved to talk to Bilbo about it when he wasn't under such scrutiny. By the suspicious looks the others were casting at him, she knew the subject could not be cast aside so easily. Bilbo, it seemed, noticed this as well.

"Look, I know you doubt me. Save you, Kai, that was a most inspiring speech you gave, thank you," He started out before sidetracking and giving a familial pat to her arm. "You've a right to, I suppose. I  _do_  often think of Bag End. I miss my books, my armchair, my garden..."

All remained silent while he paused to shrug his shoulders, eyes suspiciously wet. Kaiamær glanced Thorin's way, taken slightly aback by his expression. He looked angry of course, he always did. But his eyes had somehow softened around the edges, and his gaze held new respect for the creature. Respect and... shame?

"See,  _that's_ home to me. I belong there, just as you belong in your home. I came back because you don't have one anymore, it was  _taken_  from you. But I will help you take it back if I can." Bilbo finished, rocking on the balls of his feet.

They all stood in silence for a moment, pondering the small creature's words. The reprieve was not meant to last, however, as the silence was broken by the sudden howl of a Warg. Everyone's head snapped up at the sound, shivering at the haunting echo it created through the trees. The beast had been far too close to be anything but a Scout. They all drew their swords and looked to their leader.

"Out of the frying pan-" Thorin said in exasperation.

"And into the fire. Run, RUN!" Gandalf finished, and they ran.

**⤬⤬⤬⤬⤬**    

As they were chased down the mountainside, Kaiamær silently cursed Orcs and Wargs in every language she knew. There should be no reason why a pack of the beasts would be so close to the mountain, and subsequently the Company unless they had been hunting them all along. It was an even worse thought, for if they had been there solely as a hunting party, then they would have orders to do so. It was no far stretch for her to determine that The Goblin King's words were indeed the truth. She hoped for Thorin's sake that she was wrong, but she knew too much of the survival of Orcs after even the most devastating injuries. They were like cockroaches.

To make matters worse, the Wargs that were pursuing them seemed to be the best of their brood. They were faster, stronger, and  _much_  smarter than most of their kind. She had never dealt with Wargs so intelligent, and it did not bode well for their chances of survival. Some creatures they were able to outsmart or slay outright, but it was those they had to actively dodge and maneuver around that had her worrying. It was after a particularly close call between a Warg's mouth and Fíli's neck that Kaiamær threw all caution to the wind. She called upon any moisture in the earth she could find, using it to throw off their enemies.

"Kai-" Thorin called warningly, the first to notice the vast improvement in the distance between them and their enemies.

"I heal quickly, I'll be fine!" She yelled back, using a particularly large stream they had run past to blast the Wargs back further. A giddiness filled her when she realized that the detrimental effects of the rain had gone. Instead of feeling drained, she felt the long-familiar feeling of power surging through her. This time, there was nothing hindering her, no harmful magics to weaken her into nearly bleeding out from one spell. No, she was up to full potential, and that meant  _strength._

Her triumph was short-lived, however, as the farther they raced down the mountain, the less moisture to use. It was one weakness she had always had, even before her curse. She could not  _create_  elements, but rather use the materials  _provided_. She was tempted to draw from the earth beneath them, but she knew that there was too high a chance of a rockslide. If she made the ground unstable, there was no telling who would be caught in the earth's undertow. As much as she wanted to kill their pursuers, she would rather her friends live to see the next sunrise.

She felt that she had at least given them an advantage by the time she had nothing left to draw from, forcing herself not to worry if it had been enough. In the end, it didn't matter, for their path had led them to a dead-end cliff. There was no time to backtrack, to find an escape. The beasts were too close to their trail, gaining speed with each second. It was only Gandalf's clever order to climb into the tall pines surrounding them. The others began their respective attempts at ascending the ginormous trees surrounding them. She made to follow, only to be stopped by Gandalf's distressed cry of: 

"Bilbo!"

She whipped around in search of her friend, finding him in the midst of being charged by a particularly large beast. She ran to toward him, but the creature was already charging. She shouldn't have worried, however, for it practically impaled itself on Bilbo's sword, blade cutting through the wolf-like being's skull as if it were butter. The Genteel-Hobbit was shocked by the spattering of red on his favorite traveling coat, features becoming even more haunted by the blood that had begun to seep out from under the Warg, and onto the rocky terrain below his feet.

"Bilbo, we have to climb," She told him gently, placing a hand upon his shoulder. He seemed to snap out of it, trying to pull his blade from his prey. One tug, then two. It became clear he didn't have to strength. she looked heavenward, mystified at how he had survived this long. 

"Eru save us," She muttered before grabbing the Hobbit and slinging him over her shoulder.

"Wha- Kai!" Bilbo nearly shrieked, but she paid him no mind. She swiftly took hold of his blade, pulling it from the carcass with one swift tug.

 "Hold tightly to me," She told muttered before she jumped to catch to lowest branch of the nearest pine. She could hear the snapping of jaws and felt the whoosh of air just shy of her foot, a testament to how close a call it had been. Nonetheless, she continued to climb, taking a spot next to Dori and Bifur.

It was when they were both safe that she dared look out at their enemy. She nearly wished she hadn't for the sight she saw: The Pale Orc. Azog, the Defiler. He was indeed as alive, and even more terrifying than any of the stories she had heard of him. Perhaps it was the army of Wargs behind him, or perhaps it was just his horrifying appearance. He wasn't just pale, he was a washed-out, almost gaunt blueish grey, making his appearance seem more like a walking corpse rather than an Orc. There were distinct Gundabad markings etched along his exposed chest and arms, symbols declaring his leadership and honor. Most frightening of all, however, was the sharpened mace that was stuck through the stump of his arm. It seemed to have been stabbed into his forearm years ago, for there was no sign of healing wounds, just hauntingly smooth skin.

"Azog," She heard many of the others mutter, trying to come to terms with his state of living. 

" ** _Do you smell it? The scent of Fear?_** " The Orc spoke in his own language, the cross-hatched battle scars littering his cheeks only serving to accentuate his long, sharp teeth. " ** _I remember your Father reeked of it, Thorin son of Thraín_** _ **.**_ "

She snapped her head around to look at the leader of their company, stomach lurching at the heartbreak clear upon his features. She had hoped he hadn't understood his enemy's words, but the devastation written across his features told a different tale. It was but a moment before his sadness morphed itself into an unchecked rage. His gaze was so dark, hatred so evident, that she had to look away in fear of smoldering into dust for the intense heat of it. Azog smirked once more before he called out the order to kill all but the King Under the Mountain.

Soon dozens of the beasts were rushing forward, jumping and clawing at the trunks holding them. It was a mad scramble to climb higher so as not to be bitten, but not so high as for the thin branches to snap. That didn't seem to matter to their enemies, however, as more wargs piled together and threw themselves at the sturdy bark. It was when the trees began to creak and sway from the stress, that she knew they were in bordering on a desperate situation.

Once the first tree uprooted, it took mere seconds before the others followed. In a show of strength and pure luck, the Company was able to jump from their falling tree onto the closest one. Soon, they were all piled onto one tree. It was the largest of their perches, but it was also at the very edge of a  _very_  steep cliff. It swayed precariously under their collective weight, a clear sign that they didn't have much longer before it, too, fell. She searched for any moisture still in the soil, a puddle from the previous day's rain, morning due, an underground stream... anything. There was too little for her to use, which meant they were in a deep bind. Gandalf had said to only use her gifts if they were near death. If this did not constitute as near death, then she had no idea of the meaning of the phrase.

"Kai?" Gandalf called, permission clear in her name.

"There is no water to draw from, Gandalf!" She called back, ignoring the distressed sounds from the company at her admission.

"The Earth?" He asked over the noise.

"If I use it, I'll uproot us all," She responded her negative. The others were starting to ask questions that she didn't have the time to answer.

"The Wind," He suggested.

"I can only use it for parlor tricks!" She laughed out hysterically. "I need fire, but I can't create it on my own! There is none to be found."

"We shall see," He told her, before grabbing a pine cone from the tree and whispering an enchantment. It lit up in flames, burning brighter than any natural fire could. Without preamble, he threw it into a particularly lush patch of grass, instantly alighting it. It wasn't nearly enough, and Gandalf knew this, for he began to light more pine cones, tossing them to the others to throw. They were still deeply confused but followed the Wizard's lead anyway.

"None of you follow me, and stay firmly in the tree!" She warned, before jumping down. The others yelled as she went down, fearing that she would die in seconds. She rolled with the impact,  ending up in a crouch. The Wargs, who had been shocked to stillness by the sudden forest fire, broke out of their stances to charge toward her. A short chant had a ring of fire protecting her from the jaws of beasts, causing her to smirk at their terrified whines.

She wasted no time in flipping the edges of her cloak back, holding her hands out in front of her. She began to chant, grimacing at the guttural incantations. She had always hated using fire, for obvious reasons. One of her principle qualms was the roughness of magic, a direct opposite to the smooth flow of water enchantments.

She paid no mind to the pain searing into her skin, nor did she spare a glance when her sleeves caught flame and began to disintegrate from the sheer heat coming off of her.Finally, she lifted her hands skyward, the fire raising with them, licking hotter and brighter than they had ever been before. Her wounds had reopened completely, deeper than they had been in centuries. This time, However, there were no cuts, nor was there any blood. No, instead of the markings slicing into her skin, they began to  _burn._

" _ **Ju** **Vajaz**_ " The Orc snarled after a moment, making her cringe at the Orcish version of her name. It still made her pause in confusion, before glancing down to her now exposed arms. Apparently, he could recognize her runes from a great distance, despite never having met her in his unknown lifespan. This had implications that she couldn't spare the time for. So, instead of pleasantries, or a masterfully executed battle cry she just bellowed:

"Do you not tire of the sound of your own voice!? " Then she was slamming her fists into the dirt beneath her, fire raining down with them.


	13. The Second Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle commences, and Kaiamær must do everything in her power to keep The Company safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for the lateness of this chapter. I fought with me as I wrote it, and I kept having to rework it. The next chapter will be filled with explanations, the vagueness of Kai's thoughts and references to her past will be touched on more, and Thorin's almost-but-not-quite gay freakout will be referenced. Because honestly, I'd be slightly weirded out if I thought I was completely heterosexual and then suddenly I was falling for one of my girlfriends. It could happen, but It'd be hard to wrap my head around after absolutely no attraction to the same sex.
> 
> Also, there is some canon divergence happening this chapter(more than usual, at least). It makes sense to the relationships and story line, so just a forewarning. I feel like my take is plausible, but let me know what you guys think(And yes I am being very vague so as not to give out spoilers). 
> 
> *WARNING*: There will be some VIOLENCE in this chapter, and I have put an asterisk(*) where the goriest parts start and end. You can skip that if you feel you can't handle some crispiness on Kai's part. Basically, the summary of the last part before the break is: Much pain, Azog is mean, ow, sword/mace fight, ow, and blackness.
> 
> Enjoy!

For a few moments, the world was seen in oranges and yellows, the cries of Orcs and Wargs alike filling her ears. There was no earth left unscorched, no blade of grass kept from the flames. The sour scent of burning flesh filled her nostrils as she watched many of their enemies burning with the forest. 

The sounds of agonizing screams and the crackling of the flames had begun to be drowned out by a high pitched humming within her mind. Still, she felt a dark sense of satisfaction with the burning figures in front of her. It was wrong to find such pleasure in the pain of others, but she was so tired of trying to atone for something that had been so long ago. She was saving those she had decided to hold close, and if the Valar blamed her for that, then so be it.

When the fire finally snuffed out, the adrenaline that had sustained her suddenly vanished. She was left collapsing in agony, body shaking with aftershocks of such unhealthy magics. Her sight blackened, and she struggled to keep unconsciousness at bay. It was all for naught, as she quickly blacked out.

It was only moments later that she awoke,  only the same screeching hum to accompany her tunneled vision of the skyline. She slowly rolled over, fisting her shaking hands into the dirt so as to lift herself up onto wobbly arms. She got a glance at her mottled arms, horror, and resignation filling her.* The markings of her curse could now be mistaken for Dwarven tribal inkings if it weren't for the sizzling noise and the smoke coming from her charred skin. She could feel where it had been burned into her the deepest, leaving her panting at the white-hot pain. Water sliced the marks into her, the Earth bruising her with the patterns, Air sucked away her Oxygen, and Fire... Fire was her personal hell.*

River-Maidens weren't meant to use Fire magic. Ever. She was an anomaly as she  _could_  use it, she'd been able to use all four elements, even before her curse. It was just that now using Fire ran a risk of incinerating her as it would for any other member of her race. She had yet to disintegrate this time, and she took it as a sign that she might yet live.

She  _was_  going into shock, however. Her body had started to numb, limbs shaking. She had only used Fire twice previous, each time a near-death experience on their own. She half expected a furious Brown Wizard to come storming her way to her, yelling at her for getting blood on the plant life. This time, it was in the middle of a quest, and he never found her during it, lest he be dragged into it as well. All she could hope for was to find a stream and pray that it would give her a fighting chance.

Finally, her vision and hearing started to clear, the raspy voice of an Orc cursing her name in rather creative ways making her look up. Amongst the smoky ruins of a third of Azog's army stood The Pale Orc himself, looking angered by the thwarting of his plans. 

 He was hissing and spitting in his rage, promising his revenge in rather creative ways. She smirked, waving lazily his way. Perhaps it wasn't the most mature way of facing such a powerful foe, but she couldn't be bothered with the delicacies of mortal enemies when her skin was  _burning._  

" ** _I'd advise against touching these people._** _ **They are under the protection of The Last One.** " _She called out, letting her voice carry. She referred to herself in the vaguest manner she could, for she was fairly certain Thorin could understand Orcish. She'd ask him about it if they survived.

" _ **Then I will have to slay 'The Last One'**!_ " The Pale Orc roared mockingly, signaling what was left of his army to stand back. Apparently, now that he knew who she was, she was in the same category as Thorin: Azog's to kill alone. He started his Warg forward, causing her eyes to widen comically. Kaiamær had depleted her magical reserves, she had no strength left. Without it, she wasn't confident she could beat a 7-foot tall creature in such a weakened state. Still, she had to try.

She could not stand, but she could shoot, pulling out her bow and shakily notching an arrow.  As The Defiler upped his speed, she took her first shot. Then her second. He dodged the flying arrows with ease, much of it on account of her wonky aim. 

By now she could hear the shouts from the others, pleading with her to rise, to climb the tree. She couldn't, she had to give them as much time as possible for Gandalf to think of a way to get them out of this. Out of the whole Company, she was the best choice of death with the least amount of emotional pain for others. She had no family to go back to, no true home to speak of, no responsibilities to uphold. Radagast would most likely be furious with her, and Astàlyss would perhaps mourn her. But for Kaiamær, those behind her, those 13 Dwarves, a Wizard, and a Hobbit were the closest thing she had to friends. She had hoped that perhaps they could even become her family, given the time.  Even if they didn't feel the same, she couldn't let another family die, it wasn't an option.

She was able to hit Azog in the thigh with her next arrow, but he seemed unaffected, yanking it from his flesh with little grace. She sighed, strapping her bow to her back. It was time for the sword, then. She drew her blade, sticking it into the ground as a means to lever herself up. If she rose fast enough she'd be able to block the first blow. She was rather iffy on the second blow, but the first was a sure thing.

"Stay here and rest, you imbecile," Thorin growled,  stopping her movements with a hand to her shoulder. he sounded insulting but his eyes were filled with worry, gazing down at her wounds with barely concealed apprehension.

"Thorin-" She tried weakly, but he squeezed her shoulder, causing her to grunt in pain.

"Stay  _here_ ," He told her authoritatively before he was sprinting toward the enemy. She tried to stand once more, to stop him from running to his death, but her legs wouldn't carry her. She was forced to watch in horror as he charged The Pale Orc, letting out a guttural war cry.

She had to turn away when the first clang of metal sounded, terrified beyond all measure for this stupid Dwarf. She knew he could not stand against Azog in his state. He was exhausted from fighting Goblins, running from said Goblins, fighting Wargs, and then running from said Wargs. He was at a severe disadvantage, something that his burning rage could only cure for so long. 

She prayed to each of the Valar, begging for their protection of Thorin Oakenshield. She felt no response, as she used to, just a blank space where a voice of comfort would be. She hung her head, sighing in resignation. It was a foolish hope, she was still cursed, after all. They either could not hear her or had taken to ignoring any request, such was part of her punishment. 

It was when Kaiamær heard Thorin cry out that she was forced to whip her head up to look at the duel in front of her. Azog had finally landed a hit upon the King's person, knocking him down to sprawl onto the rocky terrain. Thorin quickly rose, spitting out a mouthful of blood before charging back into their struggle. Her eyes now glued to the scene, she watched in anguish as Thorin slowly but surely began to lose. He landed solid blows, of course, but there was only so much an exhausted King could do against a 7-foot tall, heavily built Orc astride a White Warg.

It was when Thorin did  _not_  get up after one too many times of being knocked down that she forced her legs to hold her. She was able to stand for mere seconds before they collapsed beneath her like a newborn colt. She began to crawl instead, forcing her numb and tremulous limbs to propel her forward. She was so focused on the scene ahead that she didn't notice Bilbo running past her until he had thrown his body into the Orc closest to Thorin, knocking them both to the ground and away from the fallen King. 

She let out a long sigh, sticking her sword in the ground once more and wobbling her way into standing. Both of those idiots were going to be slaughtered, and her efforts would be all for naught. She refused to allow all three of them to die, not while there was hope for the others to escape. If they would have just let her cover them, none of them would be in such peril.

 She was forced back down yet again by another hand upon her shoulder. She let out a frustrated whine when her legs toppled under the minor pressure once more. She snapped her head up to glare at the one restraining her this time. She was surprised to find Gloín standing next to her, looking gentler than she'd ever seen the brash Dwarf before. The rest of The Company, including Gandalf, stood behind him, each drawing their weapons.

"Stay and rest, Lad. It's our turn," He told her gruffly, followed a gentle but firm squeeze to her shoulder. The others gave her nods of respect and camaraderie, even those who had been so doubtful of her before. Her shoulders slumped, as she knew that there would be no talking them out of this. As soon as she nodded her head resignedly, Gloín patted her once more before he was leading the charge into battle.

For a moment, Kaiamær  _did_  rest, sitting and gazing with morbid fascination at the violence in front of her. It was when Azog set his sights on Bilbo, who was faithfully guarding their fallen King, that she moved to help. She quickly loaded her bow, hands steadying themselves as if by some miracle. This time, her aim was true, arrow embedding itself deep into The Defiler's shoulder. 

Azog let out a pained roar, head snapping her way. She shot another, and then another, but the Orc was able to deflect them now that he knew they were coming. She lowered her bow, silently acknowledging that Archery would help her no more. Azog smirked, taking her actions as a sign of defeat. He turned from her to continue his path, paying no mind to his surroundings. Panic and protectiveness gave Kaiamær a sudden burst of strength, and she used to rise and clumsily sprint her way to her friends.

She could see that Bilbo was petrified, sword dipping in his fear and awe as the Orc raised his mace high above his head. It left the smaller creature completely open to any damage that would be inflicted, and she doubted that he would survive such a direct hit from a mace the size of his torso. Bilbo had little time but to flinch as the weapon swung down with a gust of wind, only to be saved by a heavily panting River-Maiden. Their weapons met with a heavy clang, both parties glaring at each other through their crossed armaments.

" _ **I told you not to touch them.**_ " She spit out in Orcish, letting her aura emanate from her being. It seemed to affect Azog little, for he only gave her a toothy smile.

" _ **What will you do, Cursed One? You have no sway with the Gods now, you are as condemned as I.**_ " He sneered, baring his gleaming teeth.

" _ **I will do as I have always done: I will put you down like a stray, just as I did with your ancestors.**_ " She purred, before she thrust her sword, only just grazing him. He let out a battle-cry at the insult, renewing his assault with vigor.

Then began their own personal fight, to which neither party held back. Azog threw all he had into his attacks while Kaiamær utilized all the speed and maneuverability she could muster. Despite her malfunctioning limbs, she was able to slice weak cuts into his leathery skin.  Azog, despite being wounded by her, seemed only to gain strength and speed, as if she were only fueling his rage by wounding him. Eventually, it became a struggle just to block his swings.

*"Kai, look out!" Bilbo shouted, drawing her attention to the White Warg charging her from the side. Both she and the smaller creature behind her were too late to deter the beast, its long teeth sinking deep into her left shoulder with a sickening crunch. She let out a thick cry of pain, dropping to one knee as her older hurts sang a symphony of torment with the new.  Her focus narrowed down to her latest, and deepest, wound, agony radiating outward to encompass her whole being.

 She immediately regretted it, for the Warg's yellow teeth were now being washed in a rush of scarlet rose red, dripping down onto his muzzle and onto the burnt field beneath her. She let out another cry of agony when Bilbo shot forward to stab at the beast's side, for it retracted its teeth and opened the wounds further. She was suspended, for what seemed like an eternity, in a moment of fear and torment, gaze drolly staring at the blood seeping into what was left of her clothes.

Everything suddenly came into sharp focus as Azog's mace swung at her, aiming for her head. Gone was her slow movement, but gone was the numbness that had kept the pain at bay. She stumblingly blocked him, tremors returning to her burned arms and back. He let out a frustrated rumble at her continued state of living, clawed arm striking at her side like a viper. 

She had only her arm as protection, and so she gritted her teeth and blocked him with it. A hiss of pain was all she gave him as the claw slid through the muscles in her arm like butter. It seemed to be the last straw for her body, as darkness finally sunk its claws into her mind, attempting to drag her down into nothingness.

She grasped desperately for consciousness, shakily unspearing her injured hand with a noise of misery. With her last conscious movement, she gripped her sword tighter, thrusting it upward. She felt the satisfying slide as her blade stabbed into his side, causing Azog to let out a thunderous bellow. He swung his mace toward her chest in retribution, and this time she hadn't the strength to pull her sword out fast enough to block. The impact sent her sprawling backward, body cushioned by Thorin's form. The last thing she saw as her vision bled into darkness was a blurry shape coming down from the heavens. Finally, she let oblivion take her, hoping against all hope that she had at least saved them before she died.*

**⤬⤬⤬⤬⤬**

Kaiamær could feel herself being urged slowly into consciousness by a force that felt distinctly familiar. She resisted, enjoying the black pool that was enveloping her. She knew, somewhere in the back of her head that there was something she needed to be doing, something important. Still, she couldn't bring herself to care, the comfort of the dark making her reluctant to leave. The presence kept up its persistent tugging, still gentle, still familiar. She felt a sudden flash of annoyance, for  _how dare this force take me from my peace?_  She mentally batted away the metaphorical hands pulling her from her pool of black. Finally, she felt a sharp pull leaving her no choice but to spiral toward wakefulness.

 

Kaiamær's eyes snapped open, gasping violently at the shock of light she was met with. She immediately regretted her actions, for her breath caused pain to flare deeply through her whole being. She suddenly remembered what was so important, causing her to attempt to sit up. It was a mistake, and she let out a hiss being flopping back into what she noticed was a rather shallow stream. Even the water was struggling to heal her wounds, very hesitant in its embrace of her. It was like it had no idea what to do with magics so deep and deadly, just as it had when she had participated in her last quest.

"Look at you, always depleting my resources." An all too familiar voice muttered scoldingly, helping her vision to focus on a sight for very sore eyes. Well, sore body.

"Radagast...?" She asked, surprise filling her being.

"Hello, my friend," Radagast replied mousily, his grin making him look less sane than usual. She tried to sit up once more, but he pushed her back down, hand falling on her shoulder... Her startlingly bare shoulder. 

She looked down to find her armor gone and her cloak pulled completely away, causing her to gasp once more. The remains of her vest and shirt had been seemingly ripped open, leaving only deep bandages and her binding cloth standing between her and immodesty. She struggled desperately to close her tattered rags, only serving to aggravate her injuries.

"Oh, don't even bother. We already know, lad. Er, lass." Dwalin growled, gaze dark and accusing. She shrunk back, terror filling her being. Her eyes scanned her surroundings, finding that the Dwarves had made a makeshift camp while she was asleep. She also noticed that said Dwarves were making their way toward her now that they knew she was awake.

"To which we're going to have a  _very_  long talk about," Oín grumbled, looking more hurt than anything else.

"Well, I-" She started guiltily but was cut off.

"Yes, to which you are going to explain  _everything_." Dori continued, looking just as furious.

"Come, leave poor Kai alone, she did nearly die for you all." Came a very,  _very_  welcome call. Gandalf had come from behind a tree, walking forward while languidly smoking his pipe. Suddenly all who stood near her looked down guiltily. "Besides, I already told you everything."

"Gandalf-" She started to say, but was cut off once more.

"Yes, but you're a rather untrustworthy Wizard. You only help when it amuses you." Bofur pointed out, eyebrows raising unapologetically when the old wizard gave him a hurt look.

"So tell us, Kai. If that is even your name." Nori spoke up from where he had been leaning nonchalantly against a tree.

She had no time to respond for a small ball of nervous energy was sprinting from the trees and falling next to her. She was suddenly enveloped by a shaking Hobbit with such force that they were sent sprawling into the water. She let out a breathless laugh, hugging Bilbo back with little care for her state of undress. Instead of pulling away in embarrassment after a moment, like she thought he would, the small creature clung to her even tighter, shoulders starting to shake. 

"Oh, Bilbo," She sighed out in sympathy, melting into him. Never before had someone been so upset over any of her near-deaths, and it filled her with both joy and sorrow. It was a beautiful thing to have one care for her so much, but she also hated that she'd caused her friend such distress.

"I saw you fall, Kai." Came a muffled sniffle.

"I know, and I'm sorry, Bilbo." She told him solemnly. Petting his hair soothingly.

"I thought you'd die." He accused, pulling back to look at her with such an aggrieved look that she couldn't help but smile.

"Never again, do you understand me? I don't care if a hundred Azogs come after me, I can't lose you to something so vile." Bilbo told her firmly, looking very much like the respectable Hobbit he was. He reminded her of Swanahilde's mother when she'd scolded the young lass for speaking with a mysterious cloaked stranger.

"Bilbo, I can't promise that." She told him softly.

"Promise me that you will try." He told her firmly, looking absolutely set on her making an oath. "You're the closest thing I have to family out here, and if I lost you-" His voice broke for a moment, pausing to collect himself. "If I lost more family, I don't think I'd be able to truly take it."

"Bilbo, you, all of you have a family to return to." She reminded him gently, gesturing to the Dwarves who were present. Thorin and Balin were suspiciously absent, but she didn't have time to think of why. "My family is buried beneath the Sea, I have no one to mourn me and so I was the best to cover you-"

"How could you say that, Kai?" Ori spoke up from next to his eldest brother, looking utterly put out by her reasoning.

 "I-" She began but was cut off for the umpteenth time.

"Yeah, Kai. I don't tell just anyone my secrets-" Fíli spoke out kindly, looking at her encouragingly.

"-Or let just anyone give advice for mischief." Kíli finished with a smirk.

"Besides, you'd have to truly be cared for if Bombur lets you retrieve ingredients for food without supervision, or for Oín to take your advice with medicinal herbs." Bofur piped up, looking at her with a kind smile. 

"Why, Kai! So many friends now," Radagast told her teasingly, eyes crossing just to make her laugh.  Before she could respond, or any of the other Dwarves could say their peace, Astàlyss burst from the treeline to perch on a low hanging branch.

"Bilbo, we have a problem." She panted out, seeming not to notice the tender moment she had just broken.

"Did the Orcs move? Did they spot you!?" Bilbo asked her in apprehension.

"No, but the bear did." She announced. Then suddenly, there was chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you guys think? Also, stay tuned for next chapter where Beorn worships Kai as an old deity, Thorin's yelling reaches impressive heights, and Radagast eventually bids them all farewell.


	14. Agonies and Histories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Company seeks refuge with the Skin Changer Beorn, Kaiamær must deal with the fallout of her lies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY. Few, that was good to get out. I went to see my grandparents a few states over thinking "they live in a really nice old-person home, I'm sure they have Wifi, I can post it while I'm there." No. There was absolutely no Wifi. And then I thought "Well, at least I can post it when I get back, right? I have Wifi there." When I got back and the Wifi decided to quit out on me, I just about tore out my hair. So anyway, it's been over two weeks without an update and for that, you can blame Maris Grove and AT&T (I'm still so sorry).
> 
> Also, Tolkien Lore about Mahal (or Aulë) is true, the lore about Ulmo is not, it was made for story purposes. The names of the River-Maidens (Save Goldberry) were made up, as were their locations and personalities (to which you will see more of *wink**wink*). Basically, anything to do with Ulmo and the River-Woman is made up for story purposes, even though they could be a possibility as Tolkien never specified her creator...  
> Mind my mistakes, it's 7:00 AM where I am, soo.  
> Anyway, Enjoy!
> 
> Fàestelë (Old English) - The Steadfast
> 
> Acsastré (Old English) - (Literally) River Woman.

"Oh, you must have seen Beorn," Radagast commented absently, but only after the others had nearly gone into a panic in their search for answers. Typical Wizard.

"You mean you  _know_  that huge thing!?" Astàlyss asked incredulously, beak gaping comically wide.

"Well, you're not small either, birdie." Gloín grumped at her, looking particularly ravenous. Apparently, they hadn't had much luck finding food, which was not conducive to having compliant Dwarves.

"Well, neither are  _you_." She answered petulantly, wings flapping childishly.

"Now  _that_  was uncalled for," Bombur told her with disappointment because apparently, he'd decided to befriend the Crow while Kaiamær was unconscious. She wouldn't even _try_ to process this information, she was in too much pain for that.

"I'm surprised! I never thought I'd see the day you decided to, what was it you used to say? 'Lower yourself into speaking with pebble munchers,' was it?" Radagast spoke up far too innocently, causing the other Dwarves to be very cross indeed. She could feel a headache building already.

"Why you-"

"I  _still_  have that crow stew recipe-"

"How about I get a few feathers for me wife as a souvenir-"

"Enough!" Gandalf boomed, silencing any further squabbling. Then, calmer, he turned to his fellow Wizard. "Do you think he'd be open to our arrival, my friend?"

"Hmm, ah yes, yes. Especially since dear Kai is with you." He answered gaze skittering around the field. Kaiamær's head shot up, looking at her old friend in confusion. And then she remembered their location and the species that inhabited this area. She suddenly wished she hadn't.

"You don't mean...?" She hesitantly trailed off, praying to any deity that would listen, praying that she wouldn't have to deal with something so bothersome after almost _dying_.

"The very same species, my-." He became apologetically, before being cut off by a rather angry Dwarf. 

"Why did no one summon me when he-she woke?" Thorin rumbled, face absolutely thunderous. She cringed suddenly at the malice in his tone.

"Come, Uncle. The last time either Fíli and I tried to come get you in the middle of your... meetings, you quite literally  _kicked_  us out." His youngest nephew pointed out. 

"Don't forget the lecture and the extra chores," The blonde added innocently. Their statements were met with a guilty silence on their Uncle's part. Everyone paused for a moment, unsure if Thorin would start yelling.

"So, the bear?" Bilbo spoke up in an overly cheerful tone, clearly misdirecting.

"Ah yes, there is a house not far from here that we can take refuge in," Gandalf explained vaguely.

  "Any other species,  _please._ " She whined, remembering vividly why she hadn't returned for many, _many_  years. 

"What species?" Balin asked in concern.

"Skin Changers." Kaiamær and Astàlyss both spoke, both sounding as though they dreaded the thought.

" _Skin_  Changers?" Bilbo asked, completely confused by the conversation.

"Yes, sometimes they are a rather large selection of animals, and other times they are Men." The Wizard explained.

"Now that's just unnatural," Dori muttered with disgust.

"No, no. It's an ancient Earth magic. They are no more evil than sprites and pixies." Radagast told him with vehemence, looking horrified by Dori's comment.

"Would he be opposed to Kai with our... company?" Gandalf asked his fellow Wizard.

 "Under different circumstances, I would think to ask Beorn if we could stay after he'd changed... However, Kai has a very long, very rich history with his kind." The Brown Wizard mused, looking thoughtful.  

"S'not like we have much choice, the Orcs are much closer than yesterday," Astàlyss pointed out in exasperation. "Plus, that was your last shirt, Kai."

"...Fine." Kaiamær conceded, tone sour and nose scrunched in distaste. She didn't pout, but it was a close thing.

"Well then, follow me," Radagast told them flippantly before he started for the trees. Thorin, in a bout of kindness, grabbed her cloak and tossed it to her. She caught it easily, watching in surprise as different pieces of armour were hefted by different Dwarves, each deciding that they would help her without her askance. She was about to protest, but Thorin's look of anger and betrayal before he stomped forward with her breast plate stayed her tongue. Apparently, his anger hadn't lessened despite her near-death experience. Dwarves.

"Thank you." Was all she said, and he let out a grunt as his only acknowledgement. The others within the company seemed to notice the tension, sharing glances between the two of them. They had made much progress in three months, going from Thorin grunting at her to reluctantly stringing sentences together to grudgingly taking her advice. Now she wondered if he'd even let her continue this Quest, not that she wouldn't follow behind them to ensure their safety no matter  _what_  he said.

"Perhaps we should split our numbers and engage Beorn in pairs," Gandalf spoke up, trying to ease the tension as they followed the Brown Wizard's lead.

"No, that is too deceitful. Kai will be enough to quell his beastly side, at least, if he knows anything about his ancestors' histories."

"What do you mean by Kai having a 'long History with skin changers'?" Fíli asked with a small frown, seeming to pick up on the small comment.

"As you know, I've travelled much throughout my... extended life." Kaiamær reluctantly divulged, letting out an annoyed sigh. "I ran across the Skin Changers when they were still a large and prosperous Kingdom, and since my abilities are an even older form of the same ancient magics they are born with, I was seen as... Blessed by the Gods. No matter  _what_  I did, they always treated me very... affectionately."

"Well then, that doesn't sound so bad," Bilbo told her with an encouraging smile. She let out a grunt of consternation. Then less sure: "Does it?"

"Oh, she's just being dramatic. They're truly a, ah, sweet sort when you get to know them." Radagast told them hesitantly, eyes skittering around the forest. Just then the shakingly loud sound of a bear's roar could be heard not far behind.

"Sweet, eh?" Dwalin growled, sounding very much ready to throw down his axe and stomp off in annoyance.

"Run, RUN!" Gandalf gave his customary bellow, and then they were once again sprinting through the forest, save the Brown Wizard who was on his customary sled.

"Once the rest of you get inside, I'll stay behind to reason with him." She called out through her panting, already feeling her wounds opening at the added movement. It seemed Radagast had just been able to heal the first layer of skin, which meant she was already breaking it apart. Wonderful.

"It's too dangerous, Lass!" Oín protested between puffs, seemingly just as winded as she was.

"Trust me, I know what I'm doing." She told him, before falling silent once more. No one had the breath to argue, and so it was left at that.

They ran swiftly through the forest, sliding under branches and jumping over rocks and roots. No one spoke, save Gandalf who was urging them faster. Kaiamær stayed to the back of the group, making sure there were no stragglers left behind. It was namely Balin and Ori, who were both not overly fond of running, that she had to urge forward. Her calm and reassuring comments kept their pace up, rather than Gandalf's harsh shouts. She had never truly seen the Wizard so out of sorts, but then again he probably hadn't ever truly met the skin changer. This was Radagast's domain, never the Grey Wizard's.

They finally broke the treeline to look upon a distant cottage. It had a homely look to it, made of a mixture of wood and stone, roof covered by deep green moss and silvery stones. The yard was filled with lush greenery, protected by what seemed to be a 15-foot hedge with an open gate. They ran the last bit of distance, passing the gate just as a giant black bear burst through the forest. It looked absolutely savage, propelling itself forward on gigantic paws, overgrown claws kicking up dirt and lips pulling back to show dripping incisors.

"Open the Door!" Gandalf shouted frantically, as the frontmost Dwarves started pounding on it. She rolled her eyes, noticing that they hadn't removed the latch. Just to save time, she whispered a small enchantment, using a whoosh of air to lift it just enough to open. She lost her breath for a moment, head rushing from lack of Oxygen. Still, she shoved Gandalf forward, forcing him to allow her to be the closest one to the bear. She had maybe 30 seconds before he would be upon her, and so she widened her stance in front of the door and waited.

"Kai, get inside!" She heard Thorin hiss, causing her to turn. He had the door open enough for her to slide through, looking equal parts outraged and terrified.

"Please, you  _mus_ t trust me." She told him, and, when he didn't move, muttered a small enchantment. Another gust of air sent the door swiftly slamming itself shut, the force of it rattling the latch and sending it tumbling down into place. She could hear the panicked shouts of her companions, all warning her of the giant beast careening toward her. She held her ground, knowing that their worry was unfounded. Still, she felt a lump of guilt for slamming the door without an explanation. Turning back around, Kaiamær tugged away her mask, tucking the twine attached to it into her belt so as to let it hang free.

Kaiamær straightened her shoulders, lifting her hand with her palm forward slowly in a silent request for the creature to halt in its movements. The bear didn't slow, if anything, it gained speed. The next seconds were a battle of wills, whether she would jump out of the way, or if he would stop himself before he collided with her.

Inevitably, it was Beorn who stopped, too good of heart to crush such a small-looking human just because she wouldn't move. Still, he moved so that his muzzle was less than an inch from her face, letting out a rumbling growl. She could feel the warm breath ghosting over her cheeks, but she didn't step back in fear. Instead, she pulled back her cloak and leaned forward, using all the authority she had left in her tired bones.

"You will cease this needless intimidation, Beorn of Clan Northmen!" She shouted so that he could hear her. "I am Kaiamær, the River-Maid of Helcar, you will show the respect I have earned!"

The creature growled, looking closely at her, obviously trying to place the familiar name. It was only seconds before the bear all but collapsed onto its back legs, looking stunned. Suddenly, the colossal beast was shrinking, fur dissolving and bones shifting. From the Bear emerged a man, features easily distinguishing his race. His hair was a greyish-brown mane, hair thicker and further on the face and body than any normal man. She also knew from experience that the hair upon his head would follow a ridge of fur halfway down his spine.

He slowly stood, towering over her 5-foot frame, naked as a newborn babe. His eyes bored into her, fear and awe permeating the air. She sighed, causing him to snap from his reverie. He dropped to one knee as if he had been hit with a heavy weight, head bowed in reverence and respect. He could no longer look upon her face as if he was not worthy to witness her mystique. She rolled her eyes, already fed up with this hero worship. With her identity confirmed, she quickly retied her mask, breathing a small sigh of relief when her face was covered once more.

"Hail, Holy One." He spoke out, his voice a deep rumble. His face was now nearly planting itself into the dirt with how low a bow he had.

"Apologies for the sudden notice, but I seek sanctuary from the Orcs who hunt me and my Company." She told him gently, hand lifting his chin so that he could look at her properly. She absolutely  _hated_  their overly dramatic love for her. 

"I would be honored, River Mistress." He told her seriously, looking partially afraid of her. This was why she had disliked myths about her: They were greatly exaggerated, and her moral compass seemed to decline in these stories with time.

"Do not fear me, child of the forest. It is a request, not a demand." She told him gently, offering a hand to help him up. He frowned before hesitantly taking it. She gingerly helped him to stand, giving his elbow a friendly pat.

"My welcome still stands, Holy One. You may stay as long as you please." He told her seriously, looking perplexed at her actions.

"Then I thank you on behalf of all of us, Master Beorn." She told him with a blinding smile he could not see, relief filling her to the core.

"If you are to stay, I must return to my patrols. The Orcs will not breach these lands." He told her in an overly serious tone before he was turning and running the way he came, shifting as he went.  _Well, that was better than I expected,_ She thought before turning around. She was faced with an open door and to a confused Hobbit, and 13 perplexed Dwarves.

"Explain." Thorin ground out, looking 5 seconds from a rampage. 

"I-" She started, but faltered, exhaustion and pain seeming to flood back into her. Apparently, facing down a 12-foot bear was a great pain reliever. She let out a small noise of distress, legs wobbling from the sudden burst of gravity pulling her down. For a moment she thought she might fall, but from one blink to the next she had been picked up from her feet, body held gingerly by corded muscle and gentle hands.

"Well, at least this makes things easier," Dwalin grunted, eyeing Thorin with a strange expression. He was quickly silenced by a panicked Radagast rushing from the house, tugging on her savior and guiding him into the hut. She allowed herself to gaze up at Thorin, surprised to find all malice previously found in his features gone, in its place being pure concern. He carefully moved forward, working so as not to jostle her overmuch while he walked. It filled Kaiamær with confusion, this sudden shift in mood. One minute he was an angry brute demanding and ordering, and the next he was a caring gentleman asking and compromising. It was simultaneously nerve wracking, exasperating, and endearing. Instead of protesting to his coddling, she relaxed into him, allowing the pain to truly set in. 

They moved farther into the house, led to a large table set up by a massive fireplace. It was definitely made for a man of 8 feet or more, just as she had predicted. Thorin hissed and growled at the meandering wild animals, many of which darted away in fear and reproach. Fíli, ever the kind and attentive soul, stepped forward to help set her down gently, patting her head in sympathy when she let out a groan of pain at the hard surface.

"Roll her onto her stomach, if you would. She, erhm, she'll have the worst injuries there." Radagast requested nervously, looking even more worried than usual. Despite a few questioning looks, the others said nothing, just did as he asked. She hissed when the cloak was shifted out of the way, cold air aggravating her injuries even more. The tattered remains of her shirt did little to shield the deep runes from sight. She could tell the moment the others saw the runes on her back, for a collective gasp could be heard among those in the room.

  "Oh, Kai..." Radagast whispered, one bony finger tracing one of her burns. "No _wonder_  your friend flew so many miles to find me."  

  "And this was  _afte_ r she promised to be more careful than last time," Astályss said in a strained voice, flying to land on the table beside her closest friend. 

"Is there anything that can be done?" Balin asked, the level-headed dwarf sounding more shaken than she'd ever heard him.

"Yes, yes. I must cleanse the wounds of foreign elements..." Radagast answered, frowning in concern.

"You've run out of your numbing herbs, haven't you?" Kaiamær groaned, dread filling her.

"You know you need to heal, Kai," Astàlyss warned her, head burrowing into an uninjured patch of skin for comfort.

"They shouldn't be this severe, have you been maintaining your power?" Radagast asked her, accusation clear in his voice.

"You would cease practising as well if you had to deal with constant wounds. Besides, I was running through shirts like firewood." She quipped weakly, letting out a small laugh at the affronted silence.

"I  _told you_  that the old bat would send us on another thankless journey." Her feathery friend grumped, turning to Radagast for solidarity. "I even tried to remind her of that stint in Mordor, but-"

"'Lyss." Kaiamær interrupted her warningly.

"Fine, fine." She muttered reluctantly. She could feel the eyes of everyone in the room boring holes into her at that, making her shift uncomfortably.

"You might want to grab onto something, my dear. As usual, this is going to  _hurt,_ " Radagast warned her gently, hands poised at the ready for her signal. She moved her hand to grip the edge of the table, only to be caught in those same gentle hands from earlier. Her head shot up, gazing upon Thorin in confusion and gratitude. He had been more kind to her this one day than he had been in the 3 months they had been on this journey.

She allowed herself to relax, curling her fingers around his own like a lifeline. She wasn't quite sure why he was treating her differently, perhaps it was because he now knew she was a woman or perhaps he had decided that she was more valuable as an ally after all. His steady presence centred her despite herself, making the prospect of going through something so painful seem less of a mammoth task. He nodded firmly at her, giving her hand a small squeeze for good measure. She took a breath, let it out.

"Do it, Brown, and make it quick." She whispered, letting her head fall back to her forearm, keeping one hand tightly grasping their Leader's. Radagast hummed in understanding before he started chanting a long-familiar spell. Her marks began to burn once more, and then she began to scream.

**⤬⤬⤬⤬⤬**

It was a small Eternity before Radagast was finished, leaving Kaiamær tremoring and panting with the exertion. Her voice had given out sometime during the third pass through, leaving her to silently cry and shudder for the last stretch. The only thing that had helped to ground her was the quiet yet steady presence of The Dwarf King, continuing to hold her hand, even though she knew she had most likely sprained a few fingers. The situation was made even better when Bilbo had come up to stroke at her hair, murmuring soothing so as to calm her. She had never appreciated comfort so much in all her life, for it made the agony bearable this time around. There was a collective sigh of relief when it was over, the Dwarves more worried than ever due to her recently discovered orientation.

"Well then, you've remained conscious this time! This is progress, my friend!" Radagast told her happily after a moment of catching his breath. The others looked at him incredulously, seemingly unsatisfied with her level of progress.

"Wonderful, now could someone lend me a shirt?" She wheezed, accepting the hand the grey Wizard offered her after Thorin had all but dropped her hand in fright, seemingly scandalized by his actions. It took more effort than she liked, but she was able to be upright, using her free hand to cinch closed her torn shirt, feet hanging from the edge of the ridiculously high table. She was quickly thrown a shirt from the crowd of Dwarves in front of her, unable to determine who exactly it had come from. In the end, it didn't matter, not after everything they had been through together. She was quick and efficient in slipping off the remains of her shirt and pulling on the new garment, barely a blink of movement. Still, some of the others blushed a deep red, covering their eyes even after she'd finished.

"Kai, we've talked about this..." Radagast sighed in fond exasperation. She rolled her eyes, shrugging noncommittally to show him how she felt about that. She'd never taken much stock in modesty, especially not when clothes weighed her down when she swam. Back when her family still lived, sexes didn't matter, they were all family, and they were all Riverfolk. Dwarves had so many issues with Women and certain freedoms, it was a wonder how Dwarven Women could move at all.

"Now, you had questions and accusations, now is the time to ask... and accuse, I suppose." She spoke up after a few minutes of recovery, drinking water and taking the proffered food with a nod of thanks. Before anyone could ask anything, Thorin stepped forward, looking rather grim.

"First, remove your mask. There is no pretense for it and I will not listen to one who hides their face without reason" He gritted out, looking at her mask with disdain.

"Why would she remove her mask? She would terrify you without it." Radagast popped into the conversation. "Ah, you thought the mask was another deterrent to the discovery of her, ah, orientation. It would have been clever, but, ah, no."

"So your word is true, that your face is scarred?" Thorin asked, looking suspiciously at her.

"I never thought of describing it that way, my dear. An apt description!" The Brown Wizard piped up, sounding delighted. She let out a put upon sigh, letting her head fall to her waiting palm.

"I already told you this, friend." She sighed, thinking back to the first time he had run into the company. Radagast was just so prone to forgetting, she supposed.

"So then, questions?" Gandalf cleared his throat, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"Who are you, exactly? Assuming what you've told us is a lie." Dwalin spoke up, looking at her with disdain. She knew he'd be one of the ones who felt dishonored by her, he was a traditional Dwarf down to his bones.

"Everything I spoke of was true, just as it would be if I were a man rather than a woman. I  _do_  answer to Kai, to answer your question from earlier, Nori, just never with anyone but close friends... Until the start of the Quest." She told them earnestly, leaning her weight onto her hands, helping to keep her from flopping backward in exhaustion.

"Then what is your full name? Surely not   _Kaimaðr._ " Bofur asked, winking salaciously to ease the tension. It helped the tension in her frame to lessen some, allowing a huff of amusement.

  "It would have been, if I had been born as you thought I was. In truth, I am Kaiamær, daughter of Mirabel, daughter of The River Woman. That is how I would be announced by Dwarven standards, yes? For Riverfolk, I would be Kaiamær, River-Maid of Lake Evendim."  

"Who is the 'River Woman?'" Bombur asked curiously.

"A water spirit who was created by the Valar. Actually, our origins are much like Dwarves." She mused, watching as they all stared at her with confusion. "Of course Dwarven culture tells of how Mahal, one of the Valar and Eru's creations, wanted to forge creations of his own. How he sculpted Dwarves and Eru eventually agreed to give them life. However, Mahal was not the only one who molded his own species."

"Kai, you told me this knowledge was  _sacred-_ " Astályss hissed out, sounding terrified for her.

"I'm tired of secrets 'Lyss. They're friends, we can trust them" She told her gently. Radagast had paused in his mothering of her to listen, having never been told the full story, despite being of the Maiar. "Ulmo, fellow Valar and God of the Sea had longed to make new life of his own. So he created just one being: The River Woman, a sentient personification of all the Rivers of Middle Earth. She was made to be a beacon of clarity for those in need."

"Ah, I had suspected he had a hand in making your grandmother." Gandalf mused happily.

"When was this supposed creature made into being?" Dori asked, not looking convinced.

"The Time of The Trees, long before any other race had even  _begun_ to be sculpted." She explained hesitantly, almost waiting for a bolt of lightning to strike her down. When nothing came, when The Valar King Manwe's thunderous voice didn't rattle the walls, she let herself fully relax.

"Then why are the Elves said to be the first?" Bilbo asked in confusion, academia shining through his earlier anxiety for her well-being.

"Because our kind is so entwined with water, many believe we aren't a true species. To most, we don't count, or we are merely folk-legend." Kaiamær explained.

"So then, The River Woman had a daughter? Your mother?" Ori asked, seemingly soaking up the story. He had his journal out, furiously scribbling down her every word, seemingly frantic with this new information.

"She had five daughters, actually." She corrected gently. "Everpearl, Mirabel, Rosebloom, Goldberry,  and Silvervale."

"With who? _Ulmo?_ " Fíli asked, seeming slightly terrified of her just thinking about it. The thought startled a laugh out of her, making her shake her head.

"No, that would make me half Valar, and that would be... No, I'd live in The Undying Lands if that were true. He was a Maiar by the name of Fàestelë, who met and married the River Woman, or Acsastré to us."

"Goldberry, that sounds familiar..." Bilbo muttered, finger touching his lips in thought, large foot tapping the wooden floors.

"Goldberry is the River-Maiden of The Branduine River, spouse to Thomas Bombadil." She told him simply.

"Oh! The old man Bombadil! You know, I heard he comes to the Bucklander Markets once a month. A rather strange fellow, as I understand." Bilbo announced, smiling at his remembrance. "If she oversees the Brandywine, then what about the rest of your Aunts, and you?"

"Ah, well, my eldest  _living_  Aunt, Rosebloom is the warden of The Anduin River, the largest in all of Middle Earth. It is the birthright, and duty, of the Eldest to oversee the largest and most influential stretch of water." She explained, smiling at the thought of her shy relative dealing with the millions who sought the guidance of The Anduin. She most likely found it rather uncomfortable. "Then there is Silvervale, who lives in The Forest River of Green-Mirkwood. We may just run into her, if we're in luck. She tends to be a free spirit, however, and can wander off to The Long Lake..."

"And what of your last Aunt, what happened to her?" Gloín grunted, sounding as if he already knew the answer. Her happy reminiscence suddenly vanished, leaving her cold with grief.

"She and died with her immediate kin, alongside mine." She answered stiffly, shoulders locking up in an attempt to keep the memories at bay. For a moment all she could see was a massacre behind her eyelids, but she shook her head quickly and opened her eyes. There was an uncomfortable pause, each of the others seemingly unsure what to say to that.

"And what of your Exile from Rivendell?" Nori suddenly asked, coming out from the shadows. She would have jumped, if she hadn't been tracking each person in the room, she was too skilled and too old for such things.

"I already told you, I broke their sacred rules, and so I was exiled. I helped to  _build_  that city, you know. Still, I can't fault the Elves for keeping to their principals without exception." She snipped out, already tired and not enjoying the dark turn this conversation had taken. When she saw this would not satisfy their curiosity, she continued with a note of finality. "I fell apart when my family was lost to me, they could not tolerate my version of grief. That is all I will say on the matter."

"You said you helped  _build_  Rivendell, but t-that would make you..." Bilbo squeaked out, eyes bugging as he started to count the numbers.

"Over 5,000, yes." She answered simply, letting out a huff of amusement when he let out a choked noise.

"That seems too low a number... Let's see, born in 9,500... Work through to the Second Age... Third Age... Ah yes, you will be turning  11,846 years old on Nínui of 25." Radagast rattled off, eyes crossing in his concentration. When he saw the confused looks, he recalculated for the common calendar. "Erh, I mean the second month on the 25th day..."

" _11,000?_ " Bilbo cried after a strange look sent Radagast's way, looking slightly disturbed by the thought.

"You're really  _ancient,_  Kai!" Kíli announced with a laugh but was quickly cuffed by Bifur who muttered an expletive in Khuzdul.

"Not only is she a  _woman,_  but an  _old_ one?" Dwalin growled, sounding even angrier than before, if possible. She let out a sigh, know exactly where this was going.

"We're doomed to fail, now!" Bombur whimpered, patting his own belly in comfort.

"Goodbye Erebor-" Bofur muttered dramatically.

"ENOUGH!" Thorin bellowed, causing silence to reign once more. "Kai...amær, you knew of our culture and yet you blatantly disregarded what we consider to be sacred law. Why?"

"I wish I could give you a profound answer, such as 'destiny' or 'knowing that I would make all the difference.' In truth, it was because I was asked to." She murmured, watching his jaw tick with apprehension. She knew it would come to this, but she had hoped that he would be more open to her gender by now. They'd almost died together, if that didn't create some kind of bond then she didn't know what would. "Do you know why I said yes, despite knowing that I would have to hide a side of myself from you? Because I believe in this Quest, I believe that I can at least keep you all alive long enough to finally reclaim your home. It doesn't matter what I have underneath my clothes, I haven't changed since the day you met me."

"And you think, now that I know of you, that I would let you continue on this journey?" He asked, voice deadly calm. She let out a tired laugh.

"It's amusing really, that you think you can order me to stay back," She told him gently, trying desperately to keep herself calm. If he pushed her farther than this, she just might break.

"I am the Leader of the Company, King of-" Thorin started, rearing up like an offended lion.

"But not  _my_  King. I have no Kingdom, I am here of my own free will, out of a willingness to help you." She finally snapped, tired, in pain, and so ready for this conversation to be over. "You may be able to give orders while you hold my contract, but what happens when you burn it to release me? Do you think it will keep me from danger? That I'll decide to make my way home without complaint because of your  _backwards_  customs? Customs that aren't  _mine?_ "

"Women are  _sacred,_ they are to be  _protected-"_  He snarled stepping forward in a threatening manner. She snorted at that, appalled by his pig-headedness.

"Perhaps that is why there are so few Lady Dwarves, they're repressed their entire lives and so they hope for their children to be boys, so that they may be  _free._ Perhaps the Valar answer those prayers." She answered lightning quick, standing to tower over him. She knew it was a low blow, that it would cut all of the Dwarrows present deeply. It didn't mean it wasn't true.

"How  _dare_  you!?" He snarled, seemingly ready to strangle her.

"You stupid Dwarf, I'm trying to save you from death!" She cried in exasperation.

"I don't  _need_  your help, River-Maid." He barked out, making her ears ring from the noise of it.

"You would have died Yesterday, your  _kin_  would have died if not for me! When will you look past your pride and traditions to find the worth of races that aren't your own? Genders that aren't your own!?" She spit out, her chest feeling tight from the confrontation. "I've done nothing but help all of you, I've been nothing but a friend-"

"YOU ARE NO FRIEND OF MINE." He bellowed in her face, sending shivers down her spine. She felt a lump in her throat, her old friend rejection rearing its ugly head. Silence rang out through the room, all seeming to hold their breath. She all but staggered back from him, staring at his burning rage and... hate.

"My mistake, then." She whispered, voice cracking in the middle.

"Yes, it was." He spit out, lip curling in a sneer that made her stomach clench.

" _My mistake."_  She repeated brokenly, pausing for a moment to collect herself. She could feel the tears start to slip down her cheeks, steaming the mask she wore. Still, she straightened her shoulders, not willing to submit to her anguish. " _..._ for thinking you would be a good man. For believing in your cause, for  _caring_."

"Kai-" Bilbo finally broke out of his shock, starting to move forward, but she held a hand up and he stopped.

"Even still. Even as you have claimed me as an enemy, I still don't regret saving you. Even  _if_  you are nothing but a small-minded  _Durin._ " She spat the word like it was venom in her mouth, before moving past him to head for the door. _Why did I even entertain the notion that he would be more open-minded than his ancestors_ , she thought.

"Kai, where are you going?" Bilbo called after her, worry colouring his tone. She paused in the open door, turning back to look at the stunned company in front of her.

"I am going to the pond in the front courtyard to sleep. I can't stand another minute in the company of such a Barbarian." She murmured quietly before she slipped out the door without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you guys think? Please don't kill me for the angst! If you kill me you can't get a resolution, right? Right.
> 
> Next up, the Company rests, Thorin definitely does NOT feel bad, and Kaiamær reluctantly starts to train. (Also, did anyone catch the vague Númenórean Calendar reference? No? Well, it's important.)


	15. Aftermath of Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***PLEASE READ: 
> 
> Firstly, I STRONGLY apologize for the lateness. I swear my Internet is a sentient beast set on destroying my timetable. Due to this, and the fact that it's my Senior year, updates will be a bit slower now. Luckily, AT&T is coming out to fix the issues(again).
> 
> Secondly, there is going to be a LOT of italics. There are small flashbacks throughout the chapter, which I have planned since the start of this Fic. I know most people don't like to read the italics by I really hope you will make an exception this time! My story is already so descriptive that if I added in the full scenes for each of the flashbacks, my fic would end up being 3 bazillion words long by the time I finished it.
> 
> Thirdly, if it's something you guys want, I could expand the snippets of memory in a separate fic, a "missing scenes" sort of thing. It would have to be when I finished with this story, of course. I'm already planning on a second story, so it would kind of be an interlude. Only if you want it, though!
> 
> TL; DR: My internet is a Bond Villain, Updates will be slower, there are a lot of flashbacks that are crucial to plot development so please read them, and the flashbacks could be expanded, if you wanted, in a separate fic.
> 
> Enjoy!

Kaiamær spent the night burrowed amongst the seaweed at the very bottom of the pond. The moment she sunk into the water, it enveloped her in a loving embrace, as if sensing its kin's distress. It ebbed away any residual pain from her recent cleansing, leaving her body pleasantly numb and the pain in her chest even more apparent. It was only when she had touched the bottom of the bond that she allowed herself to break down, ripping the mask from her face, and slumping her shoulders. Though she had not openly cried in centuries, she wept this night. She mourned the loss of her friendships, she cried for the simple life she had once had, and she agonized over her hopeless situation.

The worst part of the night was not Thorin's harsh words, the searing pain of her wounds, nor the fact that neither Astàlyss nor Radagast came to her defence. The confrontation with such an honour-bound Dwarf was an inevitability despite her small hope of a resolution, she had prepared for it, expected it. Her injuries had always been a probability, what with how often she had had to use her abilities on this quest. It was as unsurprising as it was dreaded. Her friends had also been asked far too many times not to fight her battles for her to speak up now, despite how much they had most likely wanted to. No, it was the dead quiet of those within the company. 

She had never expected the other Dwarves to jump to her defence, nor had she expected them to immediately forgive her for her deception. She had known, intellectually, that a quite a few of them would side completely with their King, whether it be out of loyalty or out of complete agreeance of his stance. Still, perhaps she had thought... Perhaps she had  _hoped_  that a few of them might say  _something._ Yet they had said  _nothing_. Their lack of response felt damning. Final. The ember of hope that she could be more than her curse had been thoroughly dowsed into nothingness. She would forever be The Faceless Siren, an old wives' tale that was meant to strike fear into the hearts misbehaving little girls. Never to be loved, to be  _accepted_ , ever again.

Worse still was the fact that she hadn't even told them of her curse. She might as well, seeing as nothing she could ever say would change their minds about her deception. Perhaps Bilbo would eventually understand, being as he was the only one to even utter a word toward her that held warmth. Still, she found herself too raw, too afraid, after such an ordeal of this to hardly even entertain the idea. She could just picture the looks of horror and revulsion at even her faceless glamour. What would they think of her sins, if she told them? They would most likely condemn her, just as they did today. After this night, she would never dare to hope for acceptance again.

Balin would never trust her enough to swap stories of their travels and their experiences. She would never again sit and point out each of the constellations with him long into the night just for the fun of it. He'd never draw her into another intellectual debate, nor would he teach her things that even _she_ had never learned. Never again would she enjoy his beard ruffling as she challenged such a sharpened mind as he, nor would she be challenged in return. She doubted he would speak to her at all...

 

_"You fought well, Lad. Tell me, how did you learn such an archaic way of fighting? 'Tis a fascinating technique that I've only read of." The elder Dwarf asked sometime during the night, sitting over the dying fire made of Elven furniture..._

_"'Tis not archaic! It is the best fighting style for any body type, any sort of strength or weakness. Most importantly, it allows a fighter to evade nearly every foe!" She defended good-naturedly, knowing by the way his grin spread, he wouldn't go down without a fight_

_"I must disagree, Kai! You see,_ _**Dwarven** _ _fighting styles are the best there is..." He started in on her, luring her into a battle of words rather than swords..._

 

Dwalin would _certainly_  never speak to her again, though she'd miss his sparring sessions with her rather than their talks of battle strategies. It had been millennia since she'd faced such a skilled opponent, and even longer since she'd faced one just for sport. She would never get to hear his unique way of pushing her harder, his vulgar insults and praising remarks. She would not be allowed to see how grouchy he became when he hadn't hit something for too long, nor would she be able to watch as he brightened into the world's thorniest flower when he finally faced combat...

_"Do you yield?" He asked triumphantly, axes crossed not an inch from her vulnerable neck. She smirked herself, digging her sword into his side to inform him of her leverage._

_"Or do you?" She countered. He paused for a moment, looking at her with wide eyes. They stared at each other in silence for a moment, before he let go of his hold, letting out a full-belly laugh. He quickly sheathed his axes and gave her a hand up, to which she took it gracefully._

_"Heh, you're not so bad, Kai." He smirked, clapping her on the back._

_"Feeling better I see," She told him with a kind tone, patting his shoulder in solidarity. "You just needed something to beat up instead of Elves."_

_"Why you-" He started sounding angry, before all the fight left him, replaced with his previous mirth. "I suppose so, Lad. I suppose so..."_

 

It would take a great many nights to be able to sleep peacefully without Bifur's constant mutterings throughout the night, especially if she was forced to travel behind the rest of the way to ensure their safety. Despite how crazy he seemed, he was more genius than insane. The way his mind worked was a complex enigma, shrouded by the axe jumbling his thought process. She wondered if he would ever tell her of new ideas that he had thought up during the day...

_"Bifur, what are you holding?" Kaiamær asked the muttering dwarf in front of her, moving to look at what was in his palms. He turned to let her look, to which she immediately gasped._

_'A pack divider,' He signed out with his hands, showing how the contraption folded and unfolded. When she repeated his phrase aloud to show she understood, a smile overtook his face. It was the first kind look she had seen aimed at anyone but family._

_"Tell me how it works, and then tell me how you came up with such an idea, you mastermind." She told him seriously, touching the device with reverent fingers. Immediately, he came alive, hands flying as he delved into his greatest ability..._

 

She would wonder what new idea Bofur would have for his future toy shop, whether or not he had talked the idea over with Bifur, his business partner. Toys would forever remind her of the dimpled Dwarf and how he could have made the device better. She would tuck away the ideas that she had for him, never to be shared with him again...

_"Wait, so you think those in Erebor would buy carved figures of the company?" Bofur asked in excitement, eyes alighting with so many ideas._

_"Well, just think. If you made a toy dragon as you want to, you would need a toy company to slay it." She answered with a small laugh, watching as Bofur nudged his slightly cross-eyed cousin to ask his opinion._

_'Good thought' Bifur signed, Khuzdul far too jumbled to be understood in his excitement. 'Got to make Thorin look angry enough, and accessories for the group would sell. Scrolls, swords, axes, food for Bombur...'_

 

She would only be able to watch Bombur create his masterpieces from afar, or watch as his ladle swatted away greedy hands with a master's precision. She would only be able to wonder who had inspired his completely strange yet perpetually delicious meals. He would most certainly never create another meal inspired by her...

_"What... is this?" Fíli asked hesitantly, looking at the contents of the bowl set before him._

_"Cod salad, don't ask what's in it," Dwalin grunted, shovelling down the mess of food._

_"Bombur thought he could make something for me. You will it eat in you will_ _**like it** _ _," Kai told the grimacing prince firmly, pointing her spoon at him in between bites. She would not tolerate his disrespect over such a culinary masterpiece. He hesitantly scooped some of the mush up with his utensil, hesitantly guiding it to his grimacing lips. His face instantly lit up in delight, causing the others to laugh._

_"Never question my technique, boy. Without me, you would be eating cram and dreaming of the feasts you_ _**could** _ _have." Bombur told him with a smile, waving his ladle around lazily, before adding a quieter: "You can also thank Kai for the fish, I'm about as good at catching those buggers as Bofur is at frowning..."_

 

Oín would no longer have a far more energized companion to go along with his plant-picking expeditions, for who would trust a liar with such vital herbs? He would be forced to ask his brother to resume his previous help with such a task, despite how inept he was with it. He would no longer grumble at her while still following her solid medical advice...

_"If you pull that any tighter you'll break the skin, Hobbits don't have as thick a hide as you Dwarves do," Kaiamær warned the healer, watching as he tightened the bandage with a firm hand._

_"I doubt Bilbo is as feeble as you make 'im out to be, lad." Oín snorted, smoothing over the bandage, not paying attention to Bilbo's wince of pain._

_"Oh yes, I suppose I am as_ **_wrong_ ** _in this as I was when I warned you against using_ **_witch hazel_ ** _due to its hallucinogenic properties with this fair-folk..." She said, voice as dry as the desert. The healer stared at her for a second, one eye narrowing in scrutiny._

_"Fine, but I'll never understand how you had the patience to learn the medical know-how for such delicate little flowers." He grumped, loosening the bandage just slightly in concession. Bilbo let out a sigh of relief so loud that even Oín could hear it, causing the elderly dwarf to glower._

 

She wouldn't hear of a single story or anecdote about Gloín's family, it was only those he trusted that he waxed poetic about his family with. Most of the others found his redundant tales to be tiring, but she found his love for his family endearing. She wondered who he would allow to help him count the remaining funds for the journey with, telling tales to pass the time...

_"... And she says to me ' Yer hair looks about as red as the finest rubies, my favourite ya know. Too bad ya run yer mouth, it ruins it so!' She 'ad me heart then, lad." The Dwarf finished dreamily, placing another gold coin into the pile._

_"My parents were almost perfect for each other, except one small thing: My father absolutely_ **_hated_ ** _the sea. He was more for caves and such, opposite of my mother. She used to constantly be found swimming in the ocean she lived near, it used to drive my father crazy every time she came home with sand in her curls and salt in her scent. He knew she was the one when she agreed to move to live on a lake with him so that she would swim in fresh water. It was very hard for her, but she always said it was worth it. " She gave her own piece of information, keeping it vague just to be safe. Then, after a moment: " No wonder you complain of Gimli's rebellious streak, you've kept your share from the pile! Hand it over, Gloín!"_

_"But-" He started, but his mouth snapped shut at the dark aura emanating from her person. He slowly procured his coin purse, hesitantly allowing her to take it from him. "The things I do for Erebor...I'd better be getting that back!"_

 

Dori would most likely be the most open in his hostility, what with his aversion to anything not based upon tradition and natural ability. She had slowly wormed her way into  _neutrality_ at least with kind words to his brothers and a knowledge of fine clothing and jewellery. She wondered who would put up with his constant complaining over ruined clothes or abysmal living conditions if not her...

_"Dori, you could always use the stream to clean your cloak, it is not as if it is ruined." She told him kindly, continuing to mend a hole in her trousers._

_"And get more dirt everywhere, I think not! Do you know what material this is!?" He cried out, hand over his heart to show how scandalized he was._

_"Yes, yes, it is Ereborian Velvet, I know finery when I see it." She waved her hand dismissively at him. He looked slightly impressed, looking over to stare at her calculatingly. " Why you would take something so valuable on such a long quest is beyond me._

_"I'll have you know that when I step foot into Erebor, I will be looking as fine as I should be for such a magnificent city!" He started in on her, chest puffing in his pride._

 

Out of all of the Dwarves, it was Nori who she had feared would out her when she went to follow them on this quest. He had always been the sneakiest, as per his position as spymaster, and had caused quite a few scares during the three months she had been with them. Still, she had 11,000 years of experience on him, and even such a resourceful man could never compete with her expertise. It was perhaps one of the reasons why Nori had taken to trying to sneak up on her, making it into a bit of a game, one he was unlikely to continue with friendliness...

_"Second tree, fifth branch up to the right!" She called out absently, lounging with the others around the campfire._

_"How?" Nori asked her, slipping down from the tree with almost no sound._

_"There was a patch of moss you stepped on to use as leverage, it made a slight squelching noise when you started to climb." She answered smugly, smiling further when the others started exchanging coin._

_"I don't understand any of you in the least..." Bilbo sighed out, chewing on the end of his pipe. The camp burst into raucous laughter, and Kaiamær could do nothing but join in._

 

Kaiamær would never be allowed within 20 feet of young Ori, either by his will or his brothers'. He was the quietest, and sweetest of them all, and she had only taken to the art when she found that he lit up when she asked him questions about it. It was a skill she had never had much time for, as it never seemed to be a practical gift. She had found herself truly enjoying how Ori had begun to open up to her during their drawing sessions in the past weeks, and all she could do was remember his amused smile each time that she managed to make something other than a scribble...

_"What exactly is that supposed to be?" Kíli asked, squinting down to look at her drawing._

_"Well, it's_ _**supposed** _ _to be Dwalin's face." She told him absently, brows furrowing as she continued to shade the side of his face. She felt more than saw the Dwarfling Prince's head tilt in confusion._

_"What in Mahal's name did you_ **_do?_ ** _" Dwalin cried in outrage, having come to peer at her mottled portrait._

_"Well, Ori's drawing makes you look very... er, sparkly. I was trying to make you look more manly, but..." She answered defensively, pointing at the journal in Ori's lap._

_"Well, that's... Actually very nice Master Ori, thank ye." The Dwalin grunted, looking rather bashful after glancing at it. Ori's face burned a bright red, head ducking to hide his smile..._

 

Fíli, because of his Uncle, would most likely be forced to shut her out completely. He and his brother were the most open-minded of the bunch, going so far as to complain about how their mother, one of the best warriors in Dwarven culture, should have come along. She had thought, or hoped, that the two brothers might understand when she revealed her secrets. Now, all she would have left of Fíli and their friendship would be the memories. She would only ever have thoughts of their knife-throwing contests, his testing of her knowledge of ancient drinking songs, or his childish glee when she was ignorant of more up-to-date activities and phrases. Most of all, however, she would need to remember their shared moments of insecurities when she felt weak, their whispering of doubts and uncertainties between them...

_"... I am far too studious for Dwarven standards, you realize." He sighed out, bare toes dipping into the pond below. "A Dwarven King should be a true warrior, not a Dwarf who asks_ _**why** _ _the sky is blue, or wonders if it wasn't truly the Elves who had the moral right in the early days of our feud. I would rather be diplomatic than fight with neighbouring villages and Kingdoms until I win. 'Tis rather scandalous back home."_

_"Did you know, that I am next in the line of succession for my... village as well?" Kaiamær brought up delicately._

_"You? A Prince?" The Blonde asked incredulously, a delighted smile tugging at his lips._

_"Not quite a_ **_prince_ ** _per say, more like an heir to Thaneship." She corrected, waving a hand dismissively. "Where I come from, it's rather unheard of to want to travel. I was met with much anger and criticism, you know. If I am travelling, how can I protect those who are defenceless at home? Still, I pushed to be able to see the world, to better lead my people with knowledge rather than ignorance. In truth, I am unsure if I would be welcomed as a leader if I returned."_

_"But you've mentioned older family members,_ _**and** _ _the fact that gender orientation has no standing in the line of succession..." Fíli trailed off in askance._

_"As per tradition, the oldest in the next generation is supposed to lead when the eldest in the previous generation steps down or dies. I am the first born in my generation, and therefore am the heir." She explained quietly, chest tightening in remembrance. "Still, I know how it feels to see yourself as unworthy of leadership."_

_"I-I never knew..." He responded, sounding awestruck._

_"It's no matter, my point is this: Your nature is more geared toward leadership. Your people will prosper because you are willing to look at different points of view and work through issues. Trust me on this, Lad." She told him gently, squeezing his shoulder._

_"What would I do without you, Kai?" He asked, eyes oddly shining._

_"Mope and growl, just as your uncle does." She told him bluntly, following him into a fit of laughter..._

 

Kíli, no matter his standing, would follow his brother to the ends of Arda. The best she could hope for was an apologetic look, perhaps an  _actual_  apology if he was able to slip away long enough. Still, he would never openly go against his Uncle, no matter his stance on the matter. She had to be satisfied with the pranks and good times that they had had in such a short amount of time. She had grown almost used to his crass jokes, had come to anticipate his pranks. She had even begun to tentatively aid his efforts, knowing that none of the others would allow his adolescence on this quest. He was still a dwarfling, and she would never be able to give him time tobe one even just  _once_ more...

_"What did Thorin do **this** time, Kíli?" She asked him imploringly, huffing out a laugh when he pouted at her in retaliation._

_"He... took my supplies." He mumbled out reluctantly, fiddling with the reins on his pony._

_"What supplies are these?" She asked with a small smile, already guessing. He had taken to pulling a prank every three days since the start of the quest, just a fortnight ago now._

_"My supplies for, uhm, fun," he told her skittishly, looking anywhere but her general direction._

_"Ah, and it is the third day." She said knowingly, watching in amusement as he blushed bright red at being caught out._

_"Maybe..." He conceded, pout deepening at the giggle she let out. The sons of Durin were all just brooding children. She reached a hand into one of her hidden cloak pockets, pulling out a small drawstring bag. She made sure that no one else was paying attention before discreetly tossing the pouch his way. He caught it with ease, looking confused at her gift._

_"Throw a pinch into the campfire tonight when the others are least suspecting. It'll make the fire have a momentary explosion. Not enough to hurt anyone sitting close, just enough to cause a scare." She told him quietly, enjoying how his face started to light up. "They'll think it was Gandalf and his magic, which means Thorin won't scold you for something he doesn't suspect of you."_

_"And Gandalf himself?" He asked suspiciously, sending a worried glance the Wizard's way._

_"Will find the feminine shrieks of these battle-hardened dwarves well worth the blame." She answered easily, meaning every word._

_"Why, Master Kai! You're even better than I thought!" He told her with a salacious wink, his signature grin coming back in full force..._

 

Thorin was, perhaps, the hardest of all to think about. She had been bracing herself for the pain of his rejection, waiting for it. She had not prepared for how  _much_  it would hurt. It wasn't as if they were the closest of companions, or even friends by his standards.  _She_  considered him a friend, even if their conversations were restricted to group discussions, near-silent night-watches, and fights over the best course of action for The Company. Still, she had given the most information about her past to him, had spoken up around him the most. He brought out something brave in her, a trait she had thought to have been forever silenced by her centuries in exile. He was also the only one who could swiftly set her temper off spectacularly and then just as suddenly make her heart melt...

_"And I'm telling you: If we climb this mountain today, something terrible is bound to happen!" Kaiamær finally shouted in exasperation, throwing her hands up. Their argument had been running in circles and she was frankly tired of it._

_"We must push forward, Kai. Besides, your only reasoning for waiting is that the 'air is stale' and the 'rain feels draining.'" He answered condescendingly. The air quotes were almost visible with how sarcastic he said them._

_"Fine, to speak in terms that will perhaps finally penetrate that thick skull: **Goblins live in these mountains**. If we continue on now, we will spend more time on this mountain during the night than during the day. Goblins leave their caves during the night." She enunciated each word slowly so as to help him understand._

_"We must reach the mountain by Durin's day, Riverman, we can handle as measly of a foe as Goblins." He dismissed with a dignified snort(And it still amazed her how he could make anything look so majestic without even trying)._

_"Firstly, we still have 4 months and 15 days before we need to be at that mountain. I have made a journey similar to this, and I **promise you**  we have plenty of time. Secondly, Goblins may be weak in small numbers, but they come in  **hoards.** " She grit out between clenched teeth, fists bunching in lieu of snapping his neck. And oh was she tempted to._

_"I stand by my words." The Dwarf King answered, arms crossed in defiance. Her vision turned scarlet in anger and panic._

_"You don't understand, Oakenshield, friends have **died**  here, died because they did not heed my warning. You must  **listen to me.** " She told him desperately, gripping his shoulders without much thought. Then, realising the vulnerability in her words, she let go of him as if she had been burned. She swiftly turned from him, trying to compose herself despite her fraying nerves._

_"Did you go with them?" He asked her gently, demeanour completely changed._

_"For part of our journey, but we were separated a few days into the trek up the mountain." She answered, all fight leaving her as grief and memory intertwined._

_"We will not separate, Kaimaðr. You will be there to help your friends this time." Thorin told her gently, his hand settling gently on her back, spanning almost half of it. His warmth seeped into her bones, causing her to relax only slightly._

_"What makes you so certain, Thorin?" She asked, voice wobbling with emotion. He could either convince her to go with him in this moment or reignite their previous argument._

_"I have faith in you, Riverman." He told her, voice filled with deep conviction. Suddenly, all the tension still in her stance fell away as an unfamiliar warmth spread outwardly from her heart. She could do nothing but turn and clasp arms with him, reluctantly nodding her acquiescence..._

It hurt so much to think of each of them, to think of the deeper relationships she might have had if she weren't like  _this._ She had to remind herself over and over that she still had friends. Just for a moment, she allowed herself to believe that Bilbo would understand and welcome her back. He had already called her family, high praise coming from his kind. She knew that in his culture, one _never_ turned from their family, no matter how heinous their crimes. She clung to that knowledge; that she would still have Astàlyss and Radagast, and now Bilbo. It was three more than she had had for many millennia. She let the small comfort wrap around her like a shield, guarding her heart against the onslaught of doubt and fear threatening to swallow her whole. 

It was the only thing keeping her spirit from irrevocably breaking, this belief. Even as grief threatened to choke her, she did not allow herself to fold under it. She had to be strong for the family she had lost, and for the small family she had seemed to gain.She was still uncertain of what made this particular fellowship special, she had been on so many a Quest and Journey, both before and after her exile. Yet she had never felt so  _right_ as when she was with them, never felt so at  _home._ She was even more uncertain of what made  _Thorin_ so special, out of all the Dwarves in companionship. Still, she found herself too invested, too attached, to abandon The Company now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!
> 
> Next up is when the group *actually* recuperates, Thorin still definitely does NOT feel bad, and Kaiamær reluctantly begins to train(I had to split the chapter guys, sorry).


	16. Of (Not Much) Rest and Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaiamær emerges from her hiding to find a Company Divided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, yay! So, just a few things before we start.
> 
> 1\. The species of Maiar that is mentioned are actually a thing. They're explained on the Wiki as "... those spirits which descended to Arda to help the Valar shape the World." If the Valar were like angels, then the Maiar were their underlings/minions/helpers. They had traits similar to the Valar they helped and what-not. The Wizards were also incarnations of them, so it fits the story.
> 
> 2\. I PROMISE that reconciliation between Thorin and Kai will be soon, I know that it's difficult to read when they're not speaking, but I promise it'll be okay. Also, Jealous Thorin is totally going to be a thing, so stay tuned. ;)
> 
> 3\. I legitimately made a Sigil just for Kai that I've been holding onto since the beginning of the story, so the link to it can be clicked while reading the story, but the link is also [here](https://www.flickr.com/photos/152818275@N08/37617744112/in/dateposted-public/lightbox/)  
> 4\. I'm so sorry for the length, there was just no way to split this one this time. Gahh. I know some people truly enjoy lengthy fics, and I am one of those people, but I don't want to have it be SO long that it dissuades less patient readers from trying it out.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

It wasn't until mid-morning that Kaiamær dared to emerge from her self-induced exile, cautiously shuffling her way toward the house. The door creaked as she pushed it open, clothes dripping water onto the hardwood floors. She could easily hear the slight murmur of conversation and the clinking of plates coming from further into the cottage, and, reluctantly, she followed it. 

Each animal that she passed had stopped their lazy meandering and scattered at the sight of her, seemingly terrified to get in her way. The further she walked, the less enthused about this breakfast she became. She had forgotten how much the animals of Skin Changers had feared her, and she had  _not_  missed it. She tried to keep her outward demeanour perky and polite, nodding to each creature she passed, even going so far as to move out of  _their_ way. They seemed to relax the slightest bit, even going so far as to lead her toward the dining area. Progress.

As soon as she stepped foot into view, the previous murmuring came to a halt, each member of the company pausing in their movements to stare at her before quickly dropping their gazes as far from her as they could. First, she noticed the suspiciously large gap between some of the Dwarves, almost as if they had split into two factions, neither side willing to look at the other. Then, she noticed the also suspicious absence of the two resident Wizards, as well as their most gracious host. 

Very suspicious, indeed. She took a moment to look at each of them, cataloguing their expressions and their placement. The two clusters seemed to be at an impasse with the others, an air of discontent seeming to hang between them.

On the one hand, each of the members closest to her seemed to look guilty, eyes almost immediately leaving her to look at the floor in... Was that guilt, perhaps shame? She couldn't dare to hope it was either, and so she discarded the observation. Still, Ori looked on the edge of tears, Nori patting his back comfortingly with lips set in a grim line. Bofur was tugging at the flaps of his hat, slapping away Bifur's hands when the Dwarf tried to stop his movements. Bombur's placemat had no plates, nor bowls, nor  _crumbs_ as if he hadn't eaten a single bite. 

Oín was stuck in a disapproving staring contest with his brother, ear trumpet firmly set on the table rather than to his ear. Bilbo was nervously wringing his hands, the only member of the entire company edging their gaze toward her once more. His lip was quivering just slightly, only partially distracted by an irate looking Astàlyss tucked into his neck. 

Most surprising of all was Kíli, who sat on the exact opposite end of the table from his brother. He seemed to have just arrived, back ramrod straight, expression set into a determined glare. He hadn't taken his eyes off of Fíli, who sat at the opposite end of the table, looking rather devastated by Kíli's first act of complete independence.

On the other hand, those clumped farther from her still looked as angry and hurt as the night before. Dwalin was ripping into the breakfast meats set before him with savage precision, canines glinting with each sharp bite. Gloín was continuing on his staring contest with his elder brother, expression telling of his determination to win, holding onto his goblet with white knuckles. Dori was primly sipping his tea, eyebrows raised in a disapproving manner towards his kin, though never lifting his eyes from the steaming liquid. Fíli looked absolutely devastated, expression crestfallen and pleading, gaze still locked with Kíli. 

And Thorin... Thorin looked slightly different from the night previous. He was glaring at his breakfast as if he could make it burst into flames by sheer willpower alone, but that was nothing new. No, what was odd was his continuous nervous glances in Bilbo's direction, almost as if he was terrified of any sudden movement from the fair creature.  After a moment of searching, she finally noticed what was so different: Three deep scratch marks marring his face. They were fairly recent from the bright red of the lines bisecting his nose, the lines familiar in their size and intensity. Understanding suddenly filled her when she saw Astàlyss resituate herself from her peripheral, only to watch in bemusement as Thorin subtly flinched before crossing his arms petulantly.

"Good morning, Gentlemen." She spoke out softly, pleasantly surprised when Bilbo and Ori scrambled to create a space for her between themselves. She nodded her thanks, hesitantly sitting between them, unsure of her place within the Company now that most of her truths were so thoroughly unveiled.

Silently, and without prompting, those closest to her began filling her plate with her favourite foods. There seemed to have been a set of dishes made specifically for her, each plate just as delicious-looking as the last. Smoked fish and shrimp, grilled seaweed and herbs, crustaceans with lemon, wheatgrass cooked to perfection... All of the dishes she had taught Skin Changers the recipes to. With a murmur of thanks, she dug in, happy that she didn't have to speak if her mouth was full.

Luckily, the awkward silence was shortlived as the three missing members strode into view, each of them looking rather grim. As soon as they spotted her, their moods seemed to drastically brighten. Beorn, of course, dropped to one knee.

"Holy One." He called out her her reverently, causing her to let out a small sigh of fond exasperation. She rose from her seat, stepping forward to once again lend him a hand in order to stand.

"Please, Beorn, just Kai. You've opened your house to so many guests with such short notice and have offered food and shelter, the least I can do is allow you to call me by name." She told him gently, leaning down to grasp his hand when he didn't take hers. He stared at her fingers, dwarfed by his huge once in utter astonishment.

"Apologies, Lady Kai, it is just that... I had heard stories of your deeds, and yet I had never truly believed you existed. I see that I was foolishly wrong." He told her with sorrow. Well, the title of Lady was better than  _Holy One_ , she supposed.

"You have done nothing wrong, Beorn. I have not visited this area in five centuries. I would not expect you to have kept faith in my existence." She told him with a tinkling laugh. "Come, sit with us, have you been introduced to my companions?"

"Briefly, then your Wizards asked to speak with me." He told her, annoyance creeping slightly into his tone. She'd have to speak to Gandalf and Radagast about what they had done to sour his mood. 

"Ah, all the more reason to eat this delicious spread you've set out for my friends." She told him kindly, voice slightly cracking on the last word. This time, he took the hand she offered, cradling her hand as if she were made of the finest glass. She turned to face the inquisitive faces of The Company, only motioning them to make space for the much larger man just behind her.  They all scrambled to comply, the gap between the clusters of dwarves widening in their wake. Once again, she sat next to Bilbo, moving slightly to urge Beorn to sit next to her.

"So many  _Dwarves_  for one such as you." He spoke after a moment of filling his plate, spitting out the word for their kind as if it were a dirty saying.

"Hey what's that supposed to-Oof!" Kíli started, only to be nudged hard by those closest to him.

"Honestly, half a millennia and still the prejudice against Dwarves." She sighed fondly, reaching past Bilbo to grab her half-eaten plate. "You're thinking of the Ironfists, rather than these Dwarves. Most here are from Durin's line: Longbeards."

"They are all the same to me." He harrumphed taking a particularly sharp bite of his food. She let out a fond huff, actually enjoying the scowls from the 13 Dwarves present.

"So Kai, how are your wounds this morning?" Gandalf asked her a tad too brightly, having sat down across from her to grab his own plate.

"Ah, nearly healed," She told him rolling up her sleeves to show the bright pink scars. She heard a quick intake of breath amongst all of those within the room. "Spending the night underwater did wonders, believe me."

"Ah, good! You know, usually, I'd have to do a second cleansing, but this time..." Radagast spoke to no one in particular, having also sat down to eat. She let out a small shudder at the thought, mood lifting slightly when she saw  Bilbo wince slightly in her peripheral. Perhaps she was right about him, that he would understand her.

"And how was the local underwater fauna? Fishy, I'd suspect." Astàlyss finally spoke up, hopping down her perch to try to snatch food from Kaiamær's fingers.

"Hmm, very funny. They  _did_  give me a guest cubby though, it was very kind of them." She answered, flicking her friend's beak when she snapped at a finger with too much force.

"I am pleased that you enjoyed your accommodations, though you are welcome to use my room should wish for more luxurious accommodations," Beorn told her, eyes having never left her. She wasn't surprised, she  _was_  a walking myth to him.

"No, no, I'll just be using the pond for the duration of our stay, 'tis my natural habitat." She told him kindly, adjusting her mask a bit more.

"And how long will your stay be?" The shifter asked her bluntly.

"Trying to get rid of us already?" Gandalf asked teasingly, lifting his hand up when Beorn sat up to defend himself. "I was only jesting, friend. With the injuries between all of us, I suggest we stay for a fortnight."

"We cannot stay idle for so long, Wizard, you know this." Thorin finally spoke, eyes narrowing at the man in question.

"The only reason you currently live is that of Bilbo's, and Kai's, intervention. Well, that and my enchantments. You need to recuperate, Master Oakenshield." The Grey Wizard told him seriously.

"Not to mention the injuries amongst the rest of us," Oín spoke up, having decided to use his ear trumpet to actually hear the conversation. "Bofur 'as a few bruised ribs, Fíli's ankle is sprained, Bilbo's hand is nearly flayed, Gloín's back is  _purple-"_

"Fine," Thorin growled, face turning down to glare at his plate as if it had personally offended him. There was a collective sigh of relief around the table, each member of the company looking twice as relaxed as before.

"Ah, good, good. That also gives  _Kai_  here time to begin practising once more." Radagast spoke up, looking for all intents and purposes innocent. She knew better.

"Brown, no. I've already had too  _much_ practice!" She all but whined.

"Oh yes,  _practice._  So it was  _practice_  when you almost passed out from keeping these idiots from falling off the mountain, or  _practice_  when you slowed down the Wargs when they chased you,  _practice_  when you decided to use  _fire magic_  to save these ungrateful brutes..." Astàlyss started, sarcasm dripping from every word.

"Kaiamær!" Radagast gasped out, fork clattering onto his plate.

"Here we go..." She sighed.

"What in all of Arda  _were you thinking!?"_ He cried.

"I was thinking I didn't want my friends to perish." She answered, taking an innocent sip from her mug.

"You could have  _died!_ "He continued as if she hadn't spoken.

"Well, Azog could have just as easily done the trick." She told him with a rueful smile.

"Have you not forgotten how  _easily_  you could have  _disintegrated_ from this!?" Radagast hissed out, the whites of his eyes far too visible for comfort.

"Well, at least my ashes would have ended up in the lake below the cliff we were on. It would have been a wonderful resting place." She answered flippantly.

"Out of all the  _idiotic-_ all the  _reckless_ -" He spluttered, face starting to redden with anger.

"Yes, well, I wasn't the one who decided to climb a mountain full of goblins." She answered calmly, taking another bite of fish. 

"You were on a  _mountain_  you could have used something less deadly than  _fire magic-_." Radagast sounded, fists clenching on top of the table.

"Well, it would have been pathetic if I saved them from dying via Wargs only to uproot the tree and send them falling to their deaths. Besides, the fire integrated with my own being well enough." She spoke once more.

"If I knew you were going to so recklessly endanger your life, I never would have even  _mentioned_  you to Gandalf-" Radagast moaned.

"Oh, here we go. Would haves-" Kaiamær let out a put-upon sigh.

"I should have continued to let you sulk by that  _pond_ of a lake in peace-" He lamented.

"-And should haves." She finished.

"Wait, wait, wait. Wait for just  _one second_!" Bilbo raised his voice, causing the two in front of him to both stop to look at him. "What is this about  _disintegration!?"_

"Ah, if I may?" Gandalf spoke, looking questioningly at her, she nodded with an annoyed sigh. "Being that dear Kaiamær is a River Maiden, the only element she is  _supposed_ to have control over is water. However, because both her Grandmother and Mother took spouses that were Maiar, the same species as Radagast and I, she has the ability to control all four elements. She is the only one of her kind who  _can."_

 _"_ Yes, and because fire magic is the complete opposite of water magic, it  _should_  cause her to burn from the inside out into nothingness. Poof!" Radagast continued in a strained tone, eyes crossing with fear at the thought of it.

"Mmhmm, just like that cousin she told me about, the one who tried to use fire magic and turned to ash after only two seconds of having produced a flame the size of a candle," Astàlyss confessed grimly.

"Let me get this straight: Because she's special for her kind, she can control each element..." Bilbo trailed off, and at their confirmation continued. "But because of her nature, anytime she uses fire, she runs the risk of, what? Completely destroying herself?"

"Exactly," Came the synchronized answer from two Wizards and a Crow. It was rather disconcerting.

"Kai, is this true?" Thorin asked in the ensuing silence. She jumped, not having expected him to even speak to her again. She stared at him for a moment, slightly dumbfounded.

"Well... yes." She finally answered, fidgeting under his scrutinizing gaze.

"Why would you do this?" He asked, his tone of voice completely blank, face set in an impenetrable mask.

"Why? _Why?_  You insufferable, idiotic, self-righteous,  _prick_!" Astàlyss cried, wings flapping in her ire. The Dwarf King flinched at the movement, hands going to cover his face in protection before he noticed his movement and forced himself to answer her stare.

"Oi!" Dwalin called out, looking two seconds from gutting her.

"No, Baldie, it's my turn! You cut Kai to pieces last night, and I kept my beak shut for the most part at her askance. But there's only so much stupidity a bird can take." The Crow scolded, claws clicking on the wood as she moved up the table to stand in front of Thorin. "She's done nothing but help you on this  _stupid_  Quest, despite the fact that a Fire-Drake is one of the most  _dangerous_  things to face for River-Maids. She was always kind, despite the distrust that followed her, she even began to help every one of you with even the smallest tasks so as to get to  _know_ each of you. And all for what? For you all to turn from her the moment you realize she has tits rather than _chest hair_? No."

"'Lyss! Language!" Kaiamær gasped out, ears burning red in embarrassment.

"I'm speaking in terms these imbeciles might understand, friend." Astàlyss countered, before turning back to Thorin. "I told her, I  _warned_  her not to deal with the line of Durin ever again. Oh, yes, she's dealt with your lot before. Saved one of your kings, too. Even when he'd previously disregarded her warnings of war because of her gend-"

" _Enough!_ " Kaiamær thundered, springing up as her aura darkened, filling the room with a sinister air. All those in the room shivered and leaned away in fear. After complete silence was achieved, she let her aura recede, forcibly calming her voice into a soothing cadence: "There has been enough squabbling for one morning, don't you think? Beorn has been so kind as to offer us a full fortnight in this beautiful place, I would  _suggest_ we not sour it with petty grievances."

No one would look at her for their repentant faces, only vigorously nodding at her order-disguised-as-a-recommendation. She let the quiet settle for a moment as she stared each of them down, further driving her point home. Finally, she stepped from the bench and walked to the head of the table, holding out her arm as a perch. Astàlyss quickly flew to land on her elbow, burrowing her head into her shoulder in apology. She stopped to run her knuckle down her friend's back in forgiveness.

"Astàlyss, no more yelling,  _or_  scratching faces, Thorin's going to have a difficult time healing as it is." She told her friend gently, Then, turning to the Dwarf King, she continued: "Thorin, just... try to avoid upsetting these two, they're my oldest friends and as such are rather... protective." Finally, turning to the others: "If anyone needs either of us, we'll be in the back courtyard. I have been reliably, and rather  _persistently_ , informed that I need to pick up the slack on my practice of magic."

With that, she turned on her heel and began to confidently walk back toward the door. Just as when she came in, the animals scattered so as to clear the way for her. Though this time she paid them no mind, already occupied with trying not to look back at the table behind her. It was like the tension in her shoulders vanished as soon as she opened the door, mind set on leaving the others to sort out their own courses of action. Maybe if she made herself as scarce as possible, tensions between the others would bleed away.  _Still, did I imagine it, or did Thorin look slightly... guilty?_

 **⤬⤬⤬⤬⤬**   

For Kaiamær, getting back into her old training exercises was paramount to torture. Each time she moved her sword, and in turn moved each element she was working with, her freshly healed curse runes began to reopen. Of course, she had had 3,063 years to deal with the constant slices on her arms and back. Still, it became tiring very quickly when even small enchantments caused pain. It was very much a handicap, and  _very_  tedious. Oh, how she wanted to just call it quits, even just an hour into practice. Of course, if she were to speak any of her grievances aloud, it would only be Astàlyss to hear her. This was never, under  _any_  circumstances, an agreeable - or sane- idea.

Astàlyss, as per usual, had taken to resting on her discarded cloak, munching on the extra stash of sunflower seeds that she had kept there just for her. It was the only reason she didn't stop, really. She was not very keen on having a white crow lecturing her on her 'whining' before being banished back to training. She was almost tempted to blow her longtime friend back with a gust of wind but ultimately thought better of it. She knew from experience that when she upset the prideful bird, retribution would be swift and brutal, no matter how inconvenient the timing.

It was when she started using the ground beneath her that extra presences prickled into her awareness: 13 Dwarves and a Hobbit to be exact. She could sense them all huddled behind a group of trees not far from the cottage. It was a middle mark between Beorn's house and her current location, one that would have been near-impossible to spot anyone from, if they weren't all staring so intently at her. Objectively, she knew that her use of the elements to pack an extra punch in each sword movement looked especially impressive, millennia of being gawked at by both family and stranger alike had ensured her awareness. Still, she couldn't entirely understand why they would deign to even look in her direction now that she had been branded a foe by their leader. And yet Thorin himself was huddled with the others, watching. She could feel his eyes boring into her, making the hair stand on the back of her neck.

After sending a shard of compacted earth flying toward a tree, stabbing its way halfway through the thick trunk before crumbling to the ground in clumps of dirt, she thrust her sword downward as her last movement. The dust around her kicked up as her [personal mark](https://www.flickr.com/photos/152818275@N08/37617744112/in/dateposted-public/lightbox/) began to form. She watched as a series of circles intertwined - almost like displaced water ripples - around her people's symbol for water, etched its way into the dirt. The ground shook with more force as a sphere of ancient runes telling of her inner being formed around the mark, sealing it into an actual sigil. Tremors wracked the ground with the power behind it, quakes moving outward from her position and up toward the Cottage. She winced as fresh bruises bloomed over her previous injuries, eventually forcing her to kneel with the pain of it. It had been so long that she had formed such a mark, and it was taking a toll on her. Still, she felt the pain completely worth it when she heard the startled shrieks and yelps from the snooping Company. No sooner had the tremors ceased than the sound of hastily retreating footsteps sounded, causing her to smile despite her aches.  _Mission accomplished_ , she thought smugly.

"Kaimær! Don't overdo it, it's been too long since your last one." Atàlyss squawked indignantly, the sound of her wings flapping giving the River-Maid an idea of how disgruntled the bird was. "You'll regret it later if you overexert yourself!"

"You pester me into this, saying I don't do enough, and now you're saying I'm doing too much. Make up your mind, friend." Kaiamær laughed, turning to face her indignant companion.

"I'll relieve myself on your cloak, don't think I won't!" The crow threatened petulantly.

"I'll throw out the rest of the sunflower seeds, don't think I won't!" She chirped out in reply. Astàlyss gave her a betrayed look before landing back on the ground and using her wings to hoard the seeds under her belling protectively. The River-Maiden smirked triumphantly, then, when the bird's scowl deepened, her smirk blossomed into an evil smile.

"Ooh, you are  _heartless_ ," Astàlyss muttered in dismay, feeling her smug aura.

"you started it, 'lyss," She reminded in between giggles. The crow in front of her opened her mouth to reply, only to be stopped by the clearing of a throat not 10 feet away.  _huh,_  Kaiamær thought,  _When did Bilbo get so close?_

"Good afternoon, Bilbo. What brings you out here?" She asked with slightly-forced cheer. Her stomach was fluttering with nerves, a million different reasons as to why he would approach her now running through her head. With how dark her imagination was at the moment, it did little to ease her anxiety.

"W-well, you see... That is, I wanted to, Erm..." Bilbo stuttered out, wringing his hands, stray curls falling into his face in embarrassment.

"Spit it out, Hobbit!" Astlyss finally barked out in frustration, making the poor thing jump in surprise and terror.

"I just wanted to apologize!" Bilbo wailed, throwing his hands up as if he were being held at knife-point. Kaiamær's posture immediately softened, heart warming at his distressed exasperation. Perhaps she  _was_  right about Bilbo, that he would have little qualms with her orientation if he were given the chance to process the information.

"Oh, well... thank you, Bilbo." She answered softly, hand starting to reach out to touch his shoulder. At the last second, she hesitated, retracting her hand just in case her physical affection was no longer welcomed. "Though, in truth, it is  _I_ who should be apologizing. I've been lying to you since the very day we met. I would not hold it against you if you wished not to associate with me further."

"I would never have such terrible manners!" Bilbo gasped, hand going to his heart in legitimate offence.

"I just mean that by keeping your friendship with me, even out of duty and honour, will cause the others to distrust you as they do I." She told him sadly, chest feeling tighter than ever.

"Kai, I told you just yesterday that you are the closest thing to family I have out here. The truth is... You're the closest thing I've had to  _true_ family in quite some time. All I have left are Cousins, and out of all of them I only truly have two who care for me. Though, Prim and Drogo... They're too busy to truly see me much, and so I've been quite alone for some time. And-and You..." Bilbo's voice cracked, forcing him to stop and collect himself before continuing. "You have made this Quest more than just a terrifying experience. You've made me feel loved.... Welcome among such distrustful characters. The fact that you are a Woman rather than a Man should not change the fact that you are very dear to me. It  _doesn't_."

"Oh, Bilbo..." Kaiamær sighed out, eyes brimming with tears once more. She wanted so badly to hug him, but despite his words, she still felt the fear of rejection too keenly to risk it.

"I made a grave mistake in keeping myself silent the night previous. I should have defended my family... Instead, I just stood there in shock as he all but  _eviscerated_ you." Bilbo continued as if he hadn't heard her, eyes clenched shut and hands balled into fists at his sides. She could see the tears of shame running down his cheeks, and it broke her resolve to stay where she was. She rushed forward, dropping to her knees, and scooping the small creature up into a bone-crushing hug.

"I should have known you would never abandon me." The River-Maid sighed out in relief, all but melting when Bilbo broke from his shocked stillness and returned her embrace with just as much force. "I had thought you had forgiven me when I first woke, but then you hardly said a word this last night... I just couldn't be sure."

"Well, this is me telling you to be sure," He told her firmly, pulling back to look at her face, but not entirely letting go of her. "You can also be sure that some of the Dwarves are actually rather distraught with their behaviour as well. At least  _some_  of us are on your side."

"Well, if they  _do_ feel sorry for it, then I wholeheartedly forgive them. Though, there's nothing to forgive since I was the one who was deceitful." She answered regretfully, face downturned in sadness.

"Absolutely not, Kai! If they want forgiveness, they'll have to ask for it. And you'll except on a  _case by case_  basis. If they don't have the courage to do that, then they don't deserve to be near you!" Astàlyss spoke up, feathered breast puffing out in indignance. 

"Well, then... The Crow has spoken." Kaiamær answered in a falsely serious tone, sharing a look with Bilbo. Then, as one, they burst into snorts and guffaws. With this, her first day at Beorn's ended with laughter and a heart that was perhaps slightly less broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So let me know what you think!
> 
> Next up some of the Dwarves do some heavy Groveling, Kai and Thorin talk some, and Astàlyss is not pleased with Kai's forgiving nature.


	17. A Silver Lining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kai realizes that she's forgotten a few things in the years since she's dealt with Dwarves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hey there, it's been a minute. I finally graduated this July and then life decided to catch up to me. I finally was able to take time for myself, and I just didn't have the motivation to write. But don't worry! I'm back (Hopefully for good), and I have no intention of Abandoning this work. Ever. I'm going to finish this mammoth if it's the last thing I do. I love the fandom, and all of you readers, kudo givers, and commenters, too much to do that to you guys.
> 
> Now, a couple of things before you read on. I've lost my buffer chapters, so updates will probably be sporadic as I write more material. I know, that's not as fun, but hey, I have a bunch of snippets to work with so not all hope is lost. I'll also be spending some time going back to fix more errors in my writing, and some continuity errors. I *should* wait until I've finished the story but I'm a perfectionist, so bear with me as the story continues to change (Not by that much) and grow.
> 
> ALSO, since when did AO3 not let me copy and paste my text without letting me keep my alignment?? I had to go through in HTML to keep my center alignment the same as the rest of my chapters! That took way too long, thank you very much. If anyone knows a site that AO3 doesn't do that to, please let me know.
> 
> So anyway, thanks for sticking with me, and I hope to keep making decent content.
> 
> Enjoy!

The next few days were blessedly uneventful, at least for Kaiamær. Despite Bilbo's words, she kept mostly to herself, spending her time relearning her old training regiment, helping Beorn wherever he needed her, and keeping the others from noticing how Gandalf and Radagast sequestered themselves and talked of plans and dangers she had only gleaned in passing. Despite how busy she kept herself, she still felt as though her heart was an open wound, still bleeding, albeit sluggishly now from the days she had been given to heal, from Thorin's piercing words. She knew that her over-activity was like slapping a bandage over the site of a lost limb, but it was the best tactic she had, the only one that had ever worked in all her years of dealing with the same rejection over and over.

She was rather surprised with herself by the fact that this particular time had her struggling to breathe with the tight feeling constantly constricting her lungs. It wasn't as if this was the first time, not by a very long list, but somehow this one was much worse than any other time she'd dealt with. Perhaps it was the fact that she hadn't been part of a quest for hundreds of years, perhaps it was because she had always been most fond of Dwarves, or perhaps it was that these 13 dwarves, and their Hobbit, had made her feel like a normal person again, had made her feel as though she could be part of something despite her sins. Still, it mattered little now. She would rest, help Beorn, continue to strengthen herself and wait for the Company to be ready for the next leg of their journey.

Her friends, on the other hand, weren't doing anything so peaceful or innocent. Astàlyss had taken to following Thorin and listening to his conversation with what he had made to be his council. It wasn't that interesting, just plans for when they could continue their travels, half-baked schemes to leave her behind, and greatly expressed frustration over the fissure growing within the group. In a way, Kaiamær was grateful for the crow's meddlesome tendencies. It gave them an edge into what the leader of their group was thinking, and it also ensured that he _couldn't_ leave without her. On a brighter note, it also made the River-maid laugh when Astàlyss would make impressions of the Dwarf she refused to call by anything but "the Crooked-Nosed Knave," overexaggerating all of his scowls and grunts. Despite the uncomfortable tightness that had settled in her chest, she never forgot how much worse everything would be if it weren't for her ever loyal companion.  

Bilbo, too, was a constant calming presence at her side, chattering away and keeping her busy with strange facts and obscure anecdotes. After their heartfelt apologies to each other, they had stuck close together in comfort. Where Kaiamær went, the Hobbit would follow. She couldn't say she minded the company, especially after a century of only being in contact with a White Crow more prone to riposte than repartee. Bilbo was more for conversation with the occasional amount of banter than constant quips and comebacks, making it easier sometimes to speak with him about deeper matters than it was with her feathery friend. Plus, there were his positive reminders that some of the Dwarves were indeed very regretful of their previous inaction and would very much like to apologize. Not a single one had come forward yet, but it was a nice delusion for her to have while she tried to mend her shattered self-confidence and trust.

The two resident wizards could be found, day after day without fail, out in the meadow behind the hut, speaking in hushed tones about evil and danger. It was something that the River-Maid had no place interfering with, seeing as she wasn't, and never would be, part of the White Council. There was too much crimson stained into her hands for them to ever consider her. She knew that if they needed her, they would ask for her. Still, their secrecy worried her, as it did the other Dwarves, forcing her to stay within range of the two Maiar in order to force the others to give them a wide berth. She assumed they were aware of her help, seeing as they continued to send grateful looks her way.  She was lucky it had worked thus far, but she was fairly certain it would only work for so much longer.

Beorn, as all Skin Changers were when it came to her, went above and beyond to make her happy. He cooked her favourite meals, gave her his finest blankets, and offered every recourse he had at his disposal. Kaiamær had forgotten how sweet his kind was to her, despite the fact that they had known full-well of her curse. How could they not? She was a faceless creature with ominous markings littering her body in scars and blood. They had called it her "trial," saying that her curse was a blessing given by the Gods to test her resolve, dismissing her dire warning in favour of embracing her and her culture. She often wondered if their near extinction had to do with her, but after one throwaway comment alluding to her suspicions when in a conversation with their host had Beorn vehemently shooting down the theory, she had given up the notion. It also helped that his argument included the fact that, apparently, her participation in the treaty between Dwarves and Skin Changers, a purely mediatory position, in any case, had been the main reason the two races hadn't wiped each other out in the time they dealt with one another. She still wasn't entirely sure if she believed she had that much sway, however, it still made her feel slightly less useless.

Even more heartwarming was his effort to ask her any and every question he could think of, almost as if he knew she needed the distraction. He'd even somehow understood that she did _not_ want to discuss that first breakfast and the explosive shouting match that had taken place. Instead, he had started to ask her to help with menial tasks, such as helping to cook or feeding his many animal companions. She was so grateful to him that when he _did_ ask her, she was sure to put forth as much effort as she could, pulling out cooking techniques that she hadn't used in decades, or using her abilities to find a better system of watering his garden. It was during one such menial task that Beorn helped her yet again, just by doing the one thing she had neglected to do for the past few days: Observe.

"I have been attempting to find the reasoning behind your feud with Oakenshield, "Beorn began innocently enough, which made her immediately suspicious. She barely hesitated in her movements, before continuing.

"I'd think it was fairly evident as to the nature of our disagreement, but continue," Kaiamær reluctantly prompted. He gave her a sideways glance, stirring the soup with a sort of careful calculation that came from a premeditated conversation. She continued to chop the carrots in front of her, a sort of dread starting creep up her spine.

"The only explanation that makes sense is that you are having a mate's quarrel," He continued. Kaiamær let out a wheezing cough, dropping her knife in shock. Her feathery friend let out the loudest cackle she had ever heard in her life, the bird collapsing onto the counter in her mirth.

"Oh, you are a treat!" Astàlyss managed to force out in between her giggles, finally beginning to rise from her display." _Mates_ , as if  he could ever hope to deserve the honour, let alone manage to dupe Kai into falling for the twit."

"Then I should not have given him my guide on mate spats...?" Beorn asked demurely, pausing to stare at the River-Maid in perplexity.

"By Ulmo's seas," Kaiamær choked out, blood rushing to her face so quickly that she was dizzy with it. She had forgotten about the terminology, and culture surrounding, Skin Changers and their life partners. Skin Changers only chose one romantic partner, a partner to love until death. This was _not_ her and Thorin. The thought of it was absolutely ridiculous, ludicrous, _unfounded._

"That is just perfect." Astàlyss broke out into another round of full-belly laughs, rolling onto her back so that she could kick her feet back and in a wholly unnecessary display. She knew that the crow was acting theatrically to tease her, but the whole situation was humiliating. Thorin would never feel that way about her, especially now. Neither did she feel that way for him, she could admit to herself that he was... fairly attractive, but his personality? Bestial. The River-maid was sorely tempted to grab her friend from one feathery foot and dangle her over the boiling soup for her ribbings. Perhaps she wouldn't be so mirthful then.

"No, Beorn, though, that was, er, sweet." Kaiamær managed to stutter out, trying desperately to recover some of her dignity. She grabbed the knife with a shaking hand, fumbling to finish her carrots.

"Someone has been leaving you gifts, which is the step after admitting you have contributed to the argument. If not him, then who has done this for you?" Beorn's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, grabbing her neatly (well, mostly) sliced carrots, sliding them into the soup with expert strokes.

"What gifts?" The River-Maid asked, moving onto the potatoes.

"Well, there was the new clothing, "Beorn started, glancing down reproachfully at said items.

"Oh, I thought that was you, seeing as the material is similar to yours..." Kai frowned, looking at her garments in contemplation. Truly, if not Beorn, then who?

"I _had_ gone to gather your clothing for that very purpose when you went to bathe, but they were already mended." The Skin Changer told her seriously, looking slightly put out by this fact.

"Then I'm guessing it was also not your doing that my sword was sharpened?" He shook his head.

"Or my bow restrung and Arrows reinforced?" another negative.

"My new carving tools?" She asked desperately.

"Now you see why I had assumed the Dwarf had read the book and had heeded its knowledge," Beorn told her, looking slightly amused at her loss for words.

"But who...?" She muttered, starting to think. Her mended clothes could, in theory, have been done by Bilbo, but she knew for a fact that he hadn't finished mending his own clothing, and could not have finished such ruined clothing in such a short period of time without help. The only other suspects were Astàlyss, who did not have truly opposable thumbs, and the wizards, who she knew for a cold hard fact could _not_ sow to save either of their lives. That just left the Dwarves, who, despite their initial support of her, had suddenly changed their tune at the first notion of disapproval from their leader. It was a difficult notion to believe that any of them were willing to go to so much trouble, especially against their king's wishes.

Still, out of the Dwarves, it was Dori who was the tailor, but Nori, with some help, could have done a fair job of it. Her sword was impeccably sharp too as if it had been done by a master smith. Out of the Dwarves that Bilbo said were "on her side", only Kíli could possibly complete such a task. her mind, now that it knew to, connected Bifur and Bofur to her new carving tools, Oín to that heavenly salve she had stumbled across in the grass after a particularly rigorous training session. More little tokens that she had not thought about at all, started to pop up in her memory, flooding in at a faster and faster rate. In the jumble that was her subconscious, one clear thought dawned upon conscious thought: Dwarves had a different culture. Of _course._

She smacked her hand to her covered forehead, letting out a soft 'oh.' She felt like such an imbecile, to remember something so simple, yet so crucial. In Dwarven culture, a simple apology, no matter how accepted in most cultures, would be seen as lazy and unworthy. The offensive party would make something, and gift it to the wounded side. It was only _if_ said gift was accepted, _then_ they would make profuse apologies. They had been giving her gifts for _days,_ and she had acknowledged _none of them_ . They must be tearing their hair out in distress, thinking that she was rejecting their olive branches. She abruptly turned to the White Crow still belly up on the counter, an idea immediately coming to mind.

"'Lyss, I need you and Bilbo to gather the Dwarves, you know which ones. I think we've let them suffer enough." She told her breathlessly, not quite able to keep a blinding smile from her masked face. For the first time in days, she was filled with an emotion that was toxically dangerous and healingly positive all at once. She felt _hope._

**⤬⤬⤬⤬⤬**

It was just minutes after another intensely quiet dinner that Kaiamær found herself in the living room with 7 of the 13 Dwarves, each shuffling around nervously as if they were going to be subjected to torture or worse. She gave them a moment to settle, quickly grabbing each item she was certain was a gift, gently placing the small pile in a strategically prominent place. Then, she turned to face her nervous companions.

"It has come to my attention that over the past few days, I have been receiving gifts from multiple sources." She spoke out softly, watching in morbid fascination as their expressions went from 'torture by nail pulling' to 'being beheaded at the gallows.' There was a long, tension-filled pause. Then:

"Well, your clothes looked worse for wear-"

"Y'see, I felt so awful about what happened-"

"I noticed you needed some new equipment-"

"Who doesn't need a better-"

"Enough!" She spoke over them, shaking her head when every mouth in the room snapped shut. "Which of you mended my clothing?"

There was deathly silence, and then Ori came forward: "Nori and I did."

"Then, Ori, Nori," Kaiamær spoke up, moving forward to stand in front of the two Dwarves. "I accept your gift."

It was in that moment that little Ori burst into tears, throwing his arms around the River-Maid, and did not let go. She was frozen for a split-second in shock, brain short-circuiting at the sudden affection. Ori had never been very physical in his caring of her, instead opting for kind words and clever sketches. After only a moment more's hesitation, her arms wrapped around his smaller frame, only to grab tighter to him as he seemed to slump into the embrace. As Kaiamær looked around the room, she could see the apprehension on each of the gathered, her heart breaking just a bit more at their lack of faith in her.

"Ori, you must know that I'd never reject your apology, I had just... forgotten some of your customs. It has been a great many years since I have had to go through an apology ceremony," She told him gently, firming her stance as her further sagged against her so as not to let them topple over.

"W-well we'd been so awful to you for something you c-can't control. And when Gandalf mentioned that it was his idea, I realized how much it must have c-cost to lie like that..." He told her between sniffles, his bowl-like cut moving with each head shake.

"Then, as they say in Dwarven culture, I accept this gift and this show of sorrow. From both of you," She responded gently, laughing a little when Ori seemed to deflate in utter relief. Furthermore, the room seemed to brighten at the prospect of acceptance. Perhaps Bilbo was right when he told her that not all of the Dwarves believed as Thorin did, perhaps she could still call them her friends. "Now... as for the bow..."

She spent near an hour asking after the gifts she had been given, and accepting each and every one of them, much to the delight and misty eyes of the Dwarrrow surrounding her. It was a general consensus that they had already forgiven her when she'd first woken, but their King making his disapproval known had been taken as a silent order to shun her. Apparently, whatever the other Dwarves may think, those that stuck by Thorin also followed his lead. She still didn't quite believe some of them when they told her there was a chance that the others may come around, but they seemed just as set in their belief that there was a possibility.

"In any case, Lass, you're one of us now. You've cared for each and every one of us in too many ways for us not to cherish your friendship," Oín finished decisively after some time, the group lounging by the fireplace revelling in the return to companionship. The others nodded, some adding a 'Hear, hear!' for good measure.

"Hmph, well, at least _some_ of you have gotten your heads out of your ars-" Kaiamær coughed pointedly, stopping her feathered friend's words. She gave her version of a glare before continuing. "Behinds, out of your behinds. If it were up to me, I'd have let you stew for a few weeks, maybe destroy your lives a little..."

"Luckily, it was _me_ you had to deal with rather than Astàlyss. She is a spiteful creature at the best of times. Still, gain her loyalty and you'll never want for company," Kaiamær let out a tinkling laugh, nuzzling the crow nestled on her shoulder. She nuzzled back begrudgingly, she always pretended she hated the affection, but in reality, she was a highly tactile creature. The River-maid didn't mind, it was always a great remedy for loneliness.

"Well, if we're going to be your friend, we'll all have to get used to your partner," Bombur piped up good-naturedly. The others grumbled at that, but seemed to see the point.

"Oh, so now you don't want to roast me for dinner. Good to know, Mister Barrel," 'Lyss answered petulantly.

"The name's Bombur, but no, I won't try to cook ya anymore. Sorry for the insults," He smiled sheepishly, interlocking his fingers over his belly in relaxation.

"Maybe one day I'll believe it. Unlike Kai here, I have _standards_ ," The crow responded, though she sounded far less hard.

"Oh, hush you, you like them and you know it," Kaiamær nudged her companion, smirking when the bird didn't dignify that with a response.

"Oh, that reminds me, what should we call you now that you're running around as a woman?" Kíli asked mischievously. "Milady?  Kaiamær? That seems awfully long. Kaia?"

"I'd rather not have the formalities. Besides, I'm not so fond of my full name. My father was the one who got to name the firstborn, and he wasn't terribly creative," She hummed out contemplatively. At the questioning looks, she continued. "My name literally translates to 'Maiden of the Sea.' He was so bewitched by the way my mother could bend water around her that he wouldn't have me named anything else."

"That is rather... blunt," Nori said with an amused curl to his lips. She nodded, sitting forward to think.

"He was one of Mahal's Maiar, which made him rather Dwarflike if I'm honest. It's also why I'm so short for a River Maiden. I have scarcely inches more than the rest of you, which was a fact which brought great ribbing amongst my cousins. River Maidens are supposed to be as tall as Men and Elves, so my siblings and I stood out amongst our family members." She confessed, watching as many of the Dwarves seemed to get a twinkle in their eyes at the knowledge.

"Well, isn't that rather rude, you could hardly help the height you grow to. You were born that way. Still, family tends to be your harshest critic," Bilbo added, nose twitching in mild annoyance.

"Mm, however, my cousins and I were as close as siblings, so they got away with much," She reminisced, a wistful smile gracing her masked features.

"Doesn't that make you almost... Part Dwarf?" Bofur asked with a little smirk. "That would explain how you seem to favour them."

"I suppose, but I don't entirely know what you mean by 'favouring' Dwarves," She answered defensively.

"Oh, I could enlighten yo- oof!" He started but was elbowed silent by the closest companion to him.

" _Anyway,_ you never answered what name you wanted to be called by. We'd be fine with whatever makes you most comfortable," Ori spoke up, smiling encouragingly.

"I feel as though I should continue to go by the name of Kai" The River-maid answered with a secret smile, mimicking Gandalf's words to her on that fateful day so many months ago.

"Well then, Kai it is," Bofur told her with a grin, the rest of them nodding along with their own smiles. And with that, it was settled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, our favourite River-Maid finally finds the courage to talk to The Grump Under the Mountain.


End file.
